lightamidchaos | [pfsb] sword forms by the lake

"Mn. You were having fun. And you looked--"

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.

It's the one Ingress took of him while they were on the train to Leicester Square, well before any of the drinking began in earnest. He finds his own expression softening to a smile as he looks down at it -- until he catches the shift to Lan Zhan's tone, and feels his heartbeat kick up a notch again.

"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."

"They fit you very closely," he observes, as his arm tightens around Wei Ying's waist.

"Mm. Don't they?"

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."

A full-body shiver runs through him.

"Wei Ying."

It is warning and promise both.

"So shameless."

Edited 2020-10-19 21:20 (UTC)

He laughs, low, and kisses the shell of Lan Zhan's ear. There's no flush of red there, though he'd been expecting it; perhaps he will have to work harder.

"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?"

A low, wordless growl escapes him, and both the pictures and the qiankun bag go flying as he surges to his feet, lifting Wei Ying in his arms.

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.

He yelps in surprise as Lan Zhan hauls him to the bed -- so much for thinking the photographs would not be distracting! -- and starts to cackle unrepentantly as they topple onto the mattress.

"Lan Zhan -- " He's having a hard time catching his breath again, and all his senses slip entirely when the other man yanks his arms over his head. "Ah. Lan Zhan, how am I more patient than you right n -- "

That's as far as he gets before Lan Zhan kisses him so hard he sees spots behind his eyes.

He tightens his grip on Wei Ying's hair as he breaks the kiss, making absolutely sure that he cannot move, and holds himself steady above him. He lets his full weight settle against Wei Ying, keeping him pressed to the bed, and just breathes for a moment. His breath is warm on Wei Ying's lips, his own nearly touching them, but he carefully ensures that he is just out of reach of a kiss.

"We will see. Who is more patient."

It is a promise, low and heated.

Edited 2020-10-20 11:50 (UTC)

He tries to squirm, straining upward toward Lan Zhan, but cannot close the maddeningly narrow space between their mouths. He is held too tightly; that alone, he realizes in a rush of euphoria so intense his limbs weaken, makes him want to succumb to whatever Lan Zhan wishes, yield to the heat flooding through them. He pants for air.

Lan Zhan, he thinks he says, but cannot be sure.

He sees Wei Ying's lips move, shaping his name, and a thrill rushes through him.

Deliberately, steadily, he tugs on Wei Ying's hair, tipping his head slowly back.

"Yes? Did you say something?"

"Lan Zhan." A little stronger, but so hoarse he may as well whisper it. "Lan Zhan."

He wets his lips.

And cracking the most obnoxious grin he can manage under the circumstances, he rasps, "I have nowhere else to be."

He is delighted, utterly and absolutely, that even here, even now, Wei Ying remains his irrepressible self.

"Good," Lan Wangji tells him, and pulls his head the rest of the way back so that he can begin to trail a slow, languorous line of kisses down his throat.

He shivers, and even in his trembling he hardly stirs in Lan Zhan's grip. He wants to touch him and cannot; wants to kiss him again, and again, and cannot.

Wei Wuxian did not expect to enjoy this as much as he is.

(And he is enjoying it quite a lot, if the noises he's begun to make are any indication.)

Each small sound stokes the desire raging within him to new heights, and at the same time makes him want even more desperately to show Wei Ying how much he cherishes him.

He laves kisses into the hollow of his throat, then nips sharply at his collarbone, licks over the bite to calm the sting, and kisses the same spot before looking up at him, considering.

He loosens his hold on Wei Ying's hair, rubbing with strong fingers at his head and the back of his neck to soothe the lingering sensation, then slowly strokes his cheek, watching him.

His eyes flutter closed, a deep, wordless hum caught in his throat. He presses his head back into Lan Zhan's hand as he runs his fingers down to the base of his skull; exhales, shakily, when he moves on to stroke his cheek, turning his face into Lan Zhan's palm to keep as much contact with him as long as possible. He is finally close enough -- and free enough -- to kiss the heart of the other man's palm. It is so little. It is so much.

When Lan Zhan makes no further move to release him, or capture him further, he finally opens his eyes: breathless, wondering.

"More of that?" he whispers. "If you -- "

He has come back to himself just enough to remember: Lan Zhan should not be pushing himself so hard.

He places his hand over Wei Ying's mouth to stop him from speaking.

"Yes," he murmurs. "Wei Ying. Yes."

He shifts, then, maintaining his grasp on Wei Ying's wrists as he does, and moves to straddle Wei Ying's hips, so that he can both keep him pinned and be able to touch him.

Slowly, very slowly, he draws his fingers down over Wei Ying's chin, along his throat, to his chest, where he slips his hand inside his robes and lays it flat against his skin.

The closeness is excruciating. Under Lan Zhan's palm, his skin is damp with sweat, his heart racing fast as a rabbit's.

"Why did we put your robes back on?" He's laughing, too short of breath to say more than a few words at a time. Unconsciously, he pushes up against him -- the little he can move when he still remains trapped. "Lan Zhan. I want to see you again. I want to touch you."

"Your idea," he reminds him, and bites back a groan as Wei Ying rocks against him.

Lan Wangji looks down at him, breathless and laughing, and smiles with wicked delight as he says,

"Patience."

"It was a terrible idea," he complains, strained. "Ah. Lan Zhan -- "

That smile ignites another fire that sets every nerve alight as it rolls over him. He digs his nails into his palms; tries, and fails, to tangle one leg around Lan Zhan to force him closer.

"I've never seen you smile like that. Is that how you have smiled in private all those years you thought about us?"

He shakes his head.

"Only now. Only with you."

The words are still hanging in the air between them as he runs his hand along Wei Ying's chest, his touch light and sure and deliberately teasing, down to the fastening of his robes.

It's where he has hoped Lan Zhan would move all along, and still, his eyes widen fractionally as he watches. Finally, he thinks, lightheaded. He never should have teased Lan Zhan about his lack of patience -- even now he moves so slow, so deliberate, that his whole body aches with want.

"Please," he rasps. "Yes. Let me help you. Let me touch you, please -- "

"Patience," he murmurs again, drinking in the sight of Wei Ying before him as he unfastens his robes, one after the other, and lays them open.

"So beautiful."

He leans forward, a lock of his hair falling over his shoulder to brush against Wei Ying's skin, and kisses the center of his chest.

"My Wei Ying."

Slowly, he stretches out against him again as he kisses his way upward once more. He slides his free hand along Wei Ying's arm to his wrist, then to one of Wei Ying's hands, twining their fingers together.

Lan Wangji raises his head and looks down at him, then finally takes his mouth in another heated, passion-filled kiss, and relaxes his hold on Wei Ying's wrists.

Oh thank the gods.

It actually hurts a little to move his shoulders after being pinned for so long -- but it is a good pain, a clean pain that only builds on the desire burning hot in his belly. He seizes the front of Lan Zhan's robes and hauls him deeper into the kiss. Another frisson jolts up his spine as the silk caresses his bare skin.

You know what would feel even better, though? Lan Zhan's bare skin.

Wei Wuxian fumbles for the ties of his robes with none of the languid care Lan Zhan displayed with him. "Why," he mumbles against Lan Zhan's mouth, "do you wear so many layers -- " and finally his delving fingers reach Lan Zhan's chest, wrenching the robes wider.

"Mn."

He neither knows nor at this moment cares about the reasons for Gusu Lan's long-ago attire choices, instead being much more interested in the taste of Wei Ying's mouth, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his body against his own.

As Wei Ying pulls his robes open, however, he wraps his arms around him and rolls them both over, so that Wei Ying is lying on top of him, now, and kisses him again.

(And if doing so means that his back is hidden by the mattress, well... he would rather they not be reminded of his scars right now. He does not think that Wei Ying will truly mind.)

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