lightamidchaos | [pfsb] sword forms by the lake

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.)

Ah. Much better. Much easier.

This abrupt shift, from being so thoroughly restrained to being able to move all he wants, do whatever he wants, to grab Lan Zhan by the hair and insinuate his legs around him and run his teeth along the edge of his jaw -- it hits him like the strongest wine, making his head spin anew. When the next kiss ends, he sits up long enough to yank his robes the rest of the way off. In his haste, one arm gets stuck in the sleeve of his inner robes, and he breaks down in giddy laughter as he shakes it free.

"There," he breathes one he's finally shoved his clothes to the floor, and moves on to dragging Lan Zhan's robes off his shoulders too.

The room is spinning around them, and he cannot get enough air, dizzy and intoxicated with with Wei Ying's touch as he now is.

He sits up, giving Wei Ying better access to slide his robes off, and runs both his hands up Wei Ying's back to pull him close as soon as he has.

Wei Wuxian retains just enough of his mind to steer clear of the worst parts of Lan Zhan's injuries. His lower back wasn't as badly bruised as his shoulders; he wraps both arms around him there as snug as he dares, urging them even closer.

(The scars are another matter. Even this low, he can feel every narrow ridge pressed against his arms.

But if it does not hurt him --

Lan Zhan is still lovely.)

"I love you." He kisses the curve of his neck where it meets his shoulder. "My Lan Zhan."

He shivers, and turns his face into the other man's hair, holding him tightly.

"My Wei Ying. I love you, too."

He pulls back just enough to smile at him, heartstopping tenderness clear in his eyes, in the softness of his expression, then leans further back still in a controlled fall down to the bed, drawing Wei Ying after him.

Well, thinks Wei Wuxian hazily, some indeterminate time later. I cannot complain about doing away with patience.

The stars have just begun to emerge outside. The bedclothes are rumpled, the coverlet slewed halfway off the bed to pool next to their robes. Who even has any idea where their trousers are underneath everything; certainly not Wei Wuxian.

(He also thinks Madam Bar may have secretly exchanged the two pushed-together beds for a single large one when she added Lan Zhan's name to the door. He can't feel the little depression up the length of the mattress anymore.

Of course, he has also been... very preoccupied.)

One arm slung around Lan Zhan, he turns his face into his bare chest and sighs in quiet contentment.

He makes an incomprehensible sound in response and pulls Wei Ying a little closer, without opening his eyes.

One arm is around Wei Ying's back, keeping him near. The fingers of his other hand are loosely wrapped around Wei Ying's wrist, over the Gusu Lan forehead ribbon, which he had pointedly retied there at some time previously.

Otherwise, Lan Wangji does not move.

He breathes out the smallest laugh over his skin.

"It is not even hai hour yet, is it," he murmurs, so quiet he can barely be heard. "Poor Lan Zhan. But I do not regret it if you don't. We will rest well before you return."

The only thoughts he can shape are the ones he speaks aloud, drifting slow and soft as clouds across the stilled expanse of his mind. All is calm. All is -- peaceful inside his head, he realizes with distant wonder.

"Lan Zhan. My Lan Zhan. I can hardly think at all." Another breath of laughter. "I love you. How did I not know sooner? We could have done this so long ago."

He is drifting, somewhere between asleep and awake, lulled by the sound of Wei Ying's voice without comprehending what he is saying.

Laughter whispers over his skin, and without realizing it, his lips curve in a small, warm smile.

Wei Wuxian breaks into a radiant grin when he sees Lan Zhan's smile. He lifts his head just enough to tuck his chin onto Lan Zhan's chest, studying his face.

"Ah, maybe you can hear me after all," he whispers. "Sleep, Lan Zhan. I am only talking nonsense. I should sing instead so you do not think you have to pay attention to me."

He is not really aware of what Wei Ying is saying to him, only the rhythm of his voice, interspersed with recognizing an occasional word.

He hears his name: Lan Zhan.

He hears another word as well: sing.

Softly, without opening his eyes, he begins to hum their song.

Oh.

He grows quiet. The familiar melody stirs the softest vibration where he rests against Lan Zhan, a hum that wraps around his heart, and he closes his eyes as he listens.

On the ascending line midway through the first verse, he begins a quiet, thoughtless harmony.

The harmony seeps into him, the music so natural and so right that at first he thinks he is dreaming it.

Slowly, he floats closer to full awareness, and as he does he realizes that Wei Ying is still curled in his arms, and is humming along with him.

As they reach the end of the song together, he opens his eyes and turns his head slightly to smile down at Wei Ying.

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