[ in silence, wei wuxian rubs his cheek - pressing his fingers into the still-warm spot where jiang cheng's hand had met his face. his shidi shies from him now, for good reason, pulling back from the obvious perversion before him. it isn't like he would like just about anyone striking him like this! there's something about it being jiang cheng, specifically. even as he regards the other with lashes at half-mast, his mouth curls into a smug little expression, like he's come out of it victorious. lightly, he reaches out with his other hand, tucking it into the collar of jiang cheng's shirt
and then he rips his brother off his feet and half-flings him into their room. a flurry of motion that ends with wei wuxian snapping the sliding door behind them, his expression aflame with something dark and wanting. ]
Maybe I did. But, I won't forgive you for it so easily, not even if Lan Zhan left your legs weak and your body sore. You'll talk, Jiang Cheng, or I'll torment you until you cry.
[ taken aback in more ways than just his footing, jiang cheng lets himself be dragged, flung into their room as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes - but it is only for a moment. only a fraction of a moment, before he straightens up, a hand against the ruined remains of his collar, and turns his gaze back on the other - just as hot, just as angry. ]
Who said I'd ask for your forgiveness? Do you apologise to beasts when you strike them?
[ wei wuxian's expression is dark, like flames that lick against some darkened caverns, like blackened remains of twisted limbs, and jiang cheng grimaces again - his expression twisting, lips pulled back. ]
If I needed your forgiveness, I wouldn't ask for it. You'd be made to beg.
[ jiang cheng's face twists and something about it pleases wei wuxian, accompanied by the sight of the marks littering his throat, his collarbone - it seems that lan wangji truly went after him, that the two of them had finally found common ground upon which to lay together. he doesn't know if jiang cheng, his more delicate partner, was able to go all the way - so, he asks: ]
If you didn't run away, does that mean he deflowered you? The prettiest and most delicate flower of the three of us, I wish I'd been able to see it.
[ there's a lack of jealousy in his voice, because he simply is not the jealous type. just the opposite, he is happy and contented by the knowledge that two of the three of them are able to find companionship in another. however, there is a burning thing in the way his voice trembles - a rueful sort of madness, the type that suggests the only reason he's pissy right now is because he wasn't able to observe it. he wasn't there to see the way jiang cheng must have come undone, and even his vibrant imagination only allows him to envision it so far.
he leans down, fingers slowly tucking along the side of his shidi's throat. his thumb strokes the length of his windpipe, to the beat of every breath he draws. ]
I thought getting fucked would relax you, but here you are as testy as ever. Sometimes it's not as cute as I think it is, but right now -- you're really hot, Jiang Cheng. Maybe it's because you're basically underneath me.
[ under the thumb, jiang cheng's pulse beats erratically. he inhales in time with the slide of the rough pad against the skin, and his hand twitches, curling in upon itself, the palm still feeling the heat of wei wuxian's skin, as if to hit him again, to punch him this time, maybe, but in the end jiang cheng remains still. only the darkening light in his eyes speak of the anger that must coil within.
and still, even with all that anger, he flushes. jiang cheng has always been quick with his emotions, too honest to a fault, too open, and the flush darkens across his cheeks, creeping down his neck as if the touch of wei wuxian's hand is enough to burn. beautiful, lan wangji had called him. pretty, he calls him now, and for all his want of praises, jiang cheng has not learned how to take compliments yet from the either of them. ]
Get off of me. [ the tone should be fiercer, should be as the gnashing of teeth of dogs, but it isn't - jiang cheng hates the way he sounds, vaguely breathless, with not enough bite to drive the other away. ]
[ denying jiang cheng is fun. he's good at it; good at telling him 'no', good at doing things despite his wishes, good at defying his expectations and hopes. not always for the better, to be honest. right now, he denies him and balances his weight across jiang cheng's thighs, pressing down against him so that his shidi feels nothing other than the spread of the futon below ( wei wuxian's, left unattended as he was the last to rise and did not put his things away, per usual ) and the pressure of his weight above him. his hands flow, moving up together, into jiang cheng's hair. he toys with the ends, looking at the months growth and wondering if he'd be able to work a little braid into the fall - along his temple, he thinks.
a proper braid, for the heir to the lotus pier. ]
I'm happy for you and Lan Zhan. I also feel a little mad that I didn't get you first.
[ his mouth flattens, the corner of it curling up - exposing his teeth in a savage little snarl. ]
Tell me everything, Jiang Cheng. I want to know, you have to tell me what the two of you did. How you felt.
[ no, he says. so simply, as if talking to a child.
jiang cheng's expression stutters, livid white then red then pale again, caught between anger and stunned silence as wei wuxian's weight settles down atop him, as his hands steal from his throat to his hair. creeping like some pale, dead thing his hands are, or at least that is what jiang cheng tells himself, otherwise the shiver that runs the wrong way up his spine would not make sense, amidst the hot flare of annoyance in his veins. ]
I'm not some object to be got, first or otherwise!
[ shameless, he wants to say. awful, terrible, unbelievable in just how brazen he can be. to jiang cheng, he has always been someone who was both transparent and completely unpredictable. jiang cheng could never trust him to do what he was told, yet everything that he did was more unexpected than the last. everything, including being here, standing by him, even after everything.
his hands reach up, finding wei wuxian's face, and it is careful- so unlike his usual self. his fingers skim the reddened mark on his cheek, against the lobes of his ears, and jiang cheng frowns - the corner of his mouth downturned in contrast to the other. for a moment, he almost looks regretful. ]
No.
[ he grips a handful of the other's hair and rolls them over, so that wei wuxian is sprawled half on the bedding and half on floor, and glowers down at him. ]
[ his retorts go unspoken, as jiang cheng reverses their positions. his shidi is stronger than he is, these days; his body is toned, trained and older - more so than mo xuanyu's own. wei wuxian spends his time working on improving his physicality, his new core, but there is no routine to his work and he finds it easy to rely on the strengths of his partners. he depends on them in ways he wouldn't have allowed himself to before, and while parts of him dislike it, other parts find solace in being able to fall and to be caught in waiting arms.
sprawled below jiang cheng now, his eyes spark with merriment and his mouth pulls into a small, sly little pout. ]
Not as an object, as a partner.
[ he insists it, his hair in jiang cheng's fist and his hands reaching up to cradle the other's face ]
[ fall. wei wuxian has always fallen, fell, falling, tumbling headlong into another trouble, another mischief, yet another self sacrifice until he was no more. a ghost. a memory. jiang cheng had lost more than a ghost, that day. he had waited without a hope of waiting, suspended in limbo, a cliff beneath his feet.
all he had wanted was -
the warmth of him. the weight of his body against his, the hair wound around his fingers. his gaze upturned to him, his voice calling his name.
they call him beautiful, but jiang cheng does not see it. he has never seen himself as such, being too conscious, always, of the cracks and the scars, the way he would always be outshines, outnumbered, hounded and tethered in the way they were not. wei wuxian is beautiful, he thinks. lan zhan, too, is beautiful, they are the same way lofty mountains touched by clouds and the sun are beautiful. they are as the breeze against willows and the way a river ripples under touch of fingers, is beautiful.
the flush makes itself known again, spreading hot beneath the touch of wei wuxian's hand. ]
Stop it, [ his voice is low, rough, and he does not know where quite to put his gaze. ]
[ his hands are on jiang cheng's face, his fingers finding the stray ends of his hair. it grows in exactly as he has always suspected it to, in whorls and ribbons of deep brown, like the healthiest roots of a long-lived tree. like the life-supporting mud of the riverbanks. wei wuxian rolls a lock of it between his fingers, feeling the soft texture of jiang cheng's hair - teasing it as he looks up at the man who has always, always been his sworn brother. his martial pair. the other half of the twin heroes they had so boldly proclaimed themselves to be in their wilder youth. ]
You grew up so handsome. I always knew you'd gather your wrinkles here. [ touching his finger between jiang cheng's brows, to make his point. ]
Whenever I look at you, my heart aches - it feels so warm, like when we used to gather our bedsheets and wait on the roof for the dawn to break and unthaw our chilled fingers and toes.
[ softly, he tugs on the hair in his fingers. he draws jiang cheng down, down into his space until their bodies are flush again and he can slot his hip between jiang cheng's thighs. he kisses the space between his brows, where his wrinkles are prone to gathering. he kisses jiang cheng, right afterwards, his mouth a coy litle thing - the slip of his lips barely the brush of a petal before he dives, with hunger, surging up hard against his shidi as he licks a playful stripe along his mouth and across his jaw. ]
Only you would say something so vulgar in the same fucking breath. [ the sharp edges of his words do not quite reach, do not even come close to cutting as jiang cheng frowns, his brows wrinkling against the press of the other's fingers and lips.
he had always, always had jiang cheng's best and his worst - as tender as he could be, as weak and vulnerable as he could be jiang cheng is also ruthless, he can be as heartless and miserly with his affections with his shixiong - in a way, it is still with some perception of a child, of some immaturity of a feeling not yet grown, of some part of him that glows green and wild against the press of their bodies as wei wuxian pulls him to himself.
the flush settles on the bridge of his nose, against the curved shell of his ears, and he pulls back a little - he looks scandalised, which is hilarious considering they are in the privacy of their room and there was no one else about the house - jiang cheng pulls himself up a little, shifting his weight so it does not settle so heavily upon the other, but he uses a free hand to smack wei wuxian. ]
You heard me, don't be purposefully obtuse right now.
[ shame on you, jiang cheng. don't make him repeat himself.
one of wei wuxian's hands wraps around the back of the other's neck, his fingers in the soft hair at the base of his skull and curled around his spine. he uses his position to keep jiang cheng from going far, from pulling back and potentially escaping. and then, he uses his hold on the other to brace himself, dragging jiang cheng bodily to the side and swap their positions once more. he mounts his shidi's waist again, pressing his shoulders down with his hands as he pushes his weight into him again.
he smarts, where he's been slapped. it stings in a way that brings the color to his throat and his face, the fever-bright light to his eyes. ]
I. Want. To fuck you.
[ he says it again, this time sharply. mouth finding jiang cheng's again, he licks a soft, heated stripe against his bottom lip and curls his weight in, hard, against the other's. when wei wuxian kisses him, it's messy and hungry, years of something left starved and fury-ridden and abandoned in a dark place sparking between them as he glows, bright and blue through his shirt when he touches jiang cheng, kisses him. ]
and jiang cheng - well, despite what he had to say for himself about it, the truth was that he has never been good at resisting, not when his shixiong was like this.
jiang cheng was never good at pulling himself away from him, pulling away and then closer and closer still as if wei wuxian was at the centre of everything he was and is and will be. as if it had not killed the both of them to pull themselves apart in the first place, leaving jiang cheng feeling sound of limb but crippled in some quietening, inexplicable way.
restrained, yet wild where they touched - where they are touching, where wei wuxian's mouth presses against his, and jiang cheng curls his hands somewhere above the other's back, not quite touching, not quite pulling him in even as his mouth opens against the messy kiss.
being kissed by wei wuxian is not quite the same thing as far as kisses go, he is beginning to dimly realise now in his limited experience. it is something a little more desperate, with a little more clawing that leaves his guts feeling sore and aching, a little more angry. and it is still anger, of course - it is still, he is still, furious - ababdoned, lied to, left empty and aching in all the wrong places, yet he cannot bring himself to really batter wei wuxian with it. he is, perhaps maybe, afraid.
he frowns, as he kisses wei wuxian back - the tension trembling on his lashes as jiang cheng closes his eyes - and he finally, finally presses the pads of his fingers against the line of wei wuxian's back, the sinuous curve from his spine to his waist. ]
[ please, don't reject him in this moment, jiang cheng. the raw, untethered yearning he feels is a fragile thing. a shy thing, where wei wuxian should never be mollified by anything he elects to do. it is only because it is his shidi that he feels such hesitation even among the strong need to touch him ( kiss him hold his hand watch how darkly he flushes hear the sounds that he makes ). jiang cheng, like lan wangji, is entirely unique unto himself. the feelings he has for him are special, they belong to jiang cheng.
those feelings, complex and dark red, are what he gives to jiang cheng as they connect, as they glow blue together.
there is a quiet passion in there, a possessive and tooth-filled devotion that has not changed in intensity, though it had changed in form and function long, long ago. the flush of eagerness, of determination that lances through him is palpable through their connection and through the way that wei wuxian lunges in, pushing with his emotions and his body until he's shoved jiang cheng back among their scattered blankets and mattresses ( clearly it had not been lan wangji in charge of putting their bedthings away ) once more. he holds him there, fingers curling around the angle of his collarbone and the length of his neck
-- all at once, part of him desires to strangle the man underneath him --
the hands slide down, lower. he thumbs at jiang cheng's clothes, picking them apart the way he might pick the elements of a song. his focus is on his pants, taking hold of the waistband - pausing only one moment more, to determine the other's resolve. once determined, he proceeds regardless, his spine bending as he shifts his weight down to settle on jiang cheng's calves, mouth finding purchase in the slender line of skin he finds between the pants he is working on single-handedly opening and the shirt he has begun to push up to jiang cheng's throat with the other. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ in silence, wei wuxian rubs his cheek - pressing his fingers into the still-warm spot where jiang cheng's hand had met his face. his shidi shies from him now, for good reason, pulling back from the obvious perversion before him. it isn't like he would like just about anyone striking him like this! there's something about it being jiang cheng, specifically. even as he regards the other with lashes at half-mast, his mouth curls into a smug little expression, like he's come out of it victorious. lightly, he reaches out with his other hand, tucking it into the collar of jiang cheng's shirt
and then he rips his brother off his feet and half-flings him into their room. a flurry of motion that ends with wei wuxian snapping the sliding door behind them, his expression aflame with something dark and wanting. ]
Maybe I did. But, I won't forgive you for it so easily, not even if Lan Zhan left your legs weak and your body sore. You'll talk, Jiang Cheng, or I'll torment you until you cry.
no subject
Who said I'd ask for your forgiveness? Do you apologise to beasts when you strike them?
[ wei wuxian's expression is dark, like flames that lick against some darkened caverns, like blackened remains of twisted limbs, and jiang cheng grimaces again - his expression twisting, lips pulled back. ]
I won't.
[ it is as much a challenge as it could be. ]
no subject
[ jiang cheng's face twists and something about it pleases wei wuxian, accompanied by the sight of the marks littering his throat, his collarbone - it seems that lan wangji truly went after him, that the two of them had finally found common ground upon which to lay together. he doesn't know if jiang cheng, his more delicate partner, was able to go all the way - so, he asks: ]
If you didn't run away, does that mean he deflowered you? The prettiest and most delicate flower of the three of us, I wish I'd been able to see it.
[ there's a lack of jealousy in his voice, because he simply is not the jealous type. just the opposite, he is happy and contented by the knowledge that two of the three of them are able to find companionship in another. however, there is a burning thing in the way his voice trembles - a rueful sort of madness, the type that suggests the only reason he's pissy right now is because he wasn't able to observe it. he wasn't there to see the way jiang cheng must have come undone, and even his vibrant imagination only allows him to envision it so far.
he leans down, fingers slowly tucking along the side of his shidi's throat. his thumb strokes the length of his windpipe, to the beat of every breath he draws. ]
I thought getting fucked would relax you, but here you are as testy as ever. Sometimes it's not as cute as I think it is, but right now -- you're really hot, Jiang Cheng. Maybe it's because you're basically underneath me.
no subject
[ under the thumb, jiang cheng's pulse beats erratically. he inhales in time with the slide of the rough pad against the skin, and his hand twitches, curling in upon itself, the palm still feeling the heat of wei wuxian's skin, as if to hit him again, to punch him this time, maybe, but in the end jiang cheng remains still. only the darkening light in his eyes speak of the anger that must coil within.
and still, even with all that anger, he flushes. jiang cheng has always been quick with his emotions, too honest to a fault, too open, and the flush darkens across his cheeks, creeping down his neck as if the touch of wei wuxian's hand is enough to burn. beautiful, lan wangji had called him. pretty, he calls him now, and for all his want of praises, jiang cheng has not learned how to take compliments yet from the either of them. ]
Get off of me. [ the tone should be fiercer, should be as the gnashing of teeth of dogs, but it isn't - jiang cheng hates the way he sounds, vaguely breathless, with not enough bite to drive the other away. ]
no subject
[ denying jiang cheng is fun. he's good at it; good at telling him 'no', good at doing things despite his wishes, good at defying his expectations and hopes. not always for the better, to be honest. right now, he denies him and balances his weight across jiang cheng's thighs, pressing down against him so that his shidi feels nothing other than the spread of the futon below ( wei wuxian's, left unattended as he was the last to rise and did not put his things away, per usual ) and the pressure of his weight above him. his hands flow, moving up together, into jiang cheng's hair. he toys with the ends, looking at the months growth and wondering if he'd be able to work a little braid into the fall - along his temple, he thinks.
a proper braid, for the heir to the lotus pier. ]
I'm happy for you and Lan Zhan. I also feel a little mad that I didn't get you first.
[ his mouth flattens, the corner of it curling up - exposing his teeth in a savage little snarl. ]
Tell me everything, Jiang Cheng. I want to know, you have to tell me what the two of you did. How you felt.
no subject
jiang cheng's expression stutters, livid white then red then pale again, caught between anger and stunned silence as wei wuxian's weight settles down atop him, as his hands steal from his throat to his hair. creeping like some pale, dead thing his hands are, or at least that is what jiang cheng tells himself, otherwise the shiver that runs the wrong way up his spine would not make sense, amidst the hot flare of annoyance in his veins. ]
I'm not some object to be got, first or otherwise!
[ shameless, he wants to say. awful, terrible, unbelievable in just how brazen he can be. to jiang cheng, he has always been someone who was both transparent and completely unpredictable. jiang cheng could never trust him to do what he was told, yet everything that he did was more unexpected than the last. everything, including being here, standing by him, even after everything.
his hands reach up, finding wei wuxian's face, and it is careful- so unlike his usual self. his fingers skim the reddened mark on his cheek, against the lobes of his ears, and jiang cheng frowns - the corner of his mouth downturned in contrast to the other. for a moment, he almost looks regretful. ]
No.
[ he grips a handful of the other's hair and rolls them over, so that wei wuxian is sprawled half on the bedding and half on floor, and glowers down at him. ]
no subject
sprawled below jiang cheng now, his eyes spark with merriment and his mouth pulls into a small, sly little pout. ]
Not as an object, as a partner.
[ he insists it, his hair in jiang cheng's fist and his hands reaching up to cradle the other's face ]
You're beautiful, Jiang Cheng.
no subject
all he had wanted was -
the warmth of him. the weight of his body against his, the hair wound around his fingers. his gaze upturned to him, his voice calling his name.
they call him beautiful, but jiang cheng does not see it. he has never seen himself as such, being too conscious, always, of the cracks and the scars, the way he would always be outshines, outnumbered, hounded and tethered in the way they were not. wei wuxian is beautiful, he thinks. lan zhan, too, is beautiful, they are the same way lofty mountains touched by clouds and the sun are beautiful. they are as the breeze against willows and the way a river ripples under touch of fingers, is beautiful.
the flush makes itself known again, spreading hot beneath the touch of wei wuxian's hand. ]
Stop it, [ his voice is low, rough, and he does not know where quite to put his gaze. ]
tags this on tablet
[ his hands are on jiang cheng's face, his fingers finding the stray ends of his hair. it grows in exactly as he has always suspected it to, in whorls and ribbons of deep brown, like the healthiest roots of a long-lived tree. like the life-supporting mud of the riverbanks. wei wuxian rolls a lock of it between his fingers, feeling the soft texture of jiang cheng's hair - teasing it as he looks up at the man who has always, always been his sworn brother. his martial pair. the other half of the twin heroes they had so boldly proclaimed themselves to be in their wilder youth. ]
You grew up so handsome. I always knew you'd gather your wrinkles here. [ touching his finger between jiang cheng's brows, to make his point. ]
Whenever I look at you, my heart aches - it feels so warm, like when we used to gather our bedsheets and wait on the roof for the dawn to break and unthaw our chilled fingers and toes.
[ softly, he tugs on the hair in his fingers. he draws jiang cheng down, down into his space until their bodies are flush again and he can slot his hip between jiang cheng's thighs. he kisses the space between his brows, where his wrinkles are prone to gathering. he kisses jiang cheng, right afterwards, his mouth a coy litle thing - the slip of his lips barely the brush of a petal before he dives, with hunger, surging up hard against his shidi as he licks a playful stripe along his mouth and across his jaw. ]
A'Cheng, I want to fuck you.
tags this in view of public
he had always, always had jiang cheng's best and his worst - as tender as he could be, as weak and vulnerable as he could be jiang cheng is also ruthless, he can be as heartless and miserly with his affections with his shixiong - in a way, it is still with some perception of a child, of some immaturity of a feeling not yet grown, of some part of him that glows green and wild against the press of their bodies as wei wuxian pulls him to himself.
the flush settles on the bridge of his nose, against the curved shell of his ears, and he pulls back a little - he looks scandalised, which is hilarious considering they are in the privacy of their room and there was no one else about the house - jiang cheng pulls himself up a little, shifting his weight so it does not settle so heavily upon the other, but he uses a free hand to smack wei wuxian. ]
What the hell are you saying?
no subject
[ shame on you, jiang cheng. don't make him repeat himself.
one of wei wuxian's hands wraps around the back of the other's neck, his fingers in the soft hair at the base of his skull and curled around his spine. he uses his position to keep jiang cheng from going far, from pulling back and potentially escaping. and then, he uses his hold on the other to brace himself, dragging jiang cheng bodily to the side and swap their positions once more. he mounts his shidi's waist again, pressing his shoulders down with his hands as he pushes his weight into him again.
he smarts, where he's been slapped. it stings in a way that brings the color to his throat and his face, the fever-bright light to his eyes. ]
I. Want. To fuck you.
[ he says it again, this time sharply. mouth finding jiang cheng's again, he licks a soft, heated stripe against his bottom lip and curls his weight in, hard, against the other's. when wei wuxian kisses him, it's messy and hungry, years of something left starved and fury-ridden and abandoned in a dark place sparking between them as he glows, bright and blue through his shirt when he touches jiang cheng, kisses him. ]
Let me.
no subject
and jiang cheng - well, despite what he had to say for himself about it, the truth was that he has never been good at resisting, not when his shixiong was like this.
jiang cheng was never good at pulling himself away from him, pulling away and then closer and closer still as if wei wuxian was at the centre of everything he was and is and will be. as if it had not killed the both of them to pull themselves apart in the first place, leaving jiang cheng feeling sound of limb but crippled in some quietening, inexplicable way.
restrained, yet wild where they touched - where they are touching, where wei wuxian's mouth presses against his, and jiang cheng curls his hands somewhere above the other's back, not quite touching, not quite pulling him in even as his mouth opens against the messy kiss.
being kissed by wei wuxian is not quite the same thing as far as kisses go, he is beginning to dimly realise now in his limited experience. it is something a little more desperate, with a little more clawing that leaves his guts feeling sore and aching, a little more angry. and it is still anger, of course - it is still, he is still, furious - ababdoned, lied to, left empty and aching in all the wrong places, yet he cannot bring himself to really batter wei wuxian with it. he is, perhaps maybe, afraid.
he frowns, as he kisses wei wuxian back - the tension trembling on his lashes as jiang cheng closes his eyes - and he finally, finally presses the pads of his fingers against the line of wei wuxian's back, the sinuous curve from his spine to his waist. ]
no subject
those feelings, complex and dark red, are what he gives to jiang cheng as they connect, as they glow blue together.
there is a quiet passion in there, a possessive and tooth-filled devotion that has not changed in intensity, though it had changed in form and function long, long ago. the flush of eagerness, of determination that lances through him is palpable through their connection and through the way that wei wuxian lunges in, pushing with his emotions and his body until he's shoved jiang cheng back among their scattered blankets and mattresses ( clearly it had not been lan wangji in charge of putting their bedthings away ) once more. he holds him there, fingers curling around the angle of his collarbone and the length of his neck
-- all at once, part of him desires to strangle the man underneath him --
the hands slide down, lower. he thumbs at jiang cheng's clothes, picking them apart the way he might pick the elements of a song. his focus is on his pants, taking hold of the waistband - pausing only one moment more, to determine the other's resolve. once determined, he proceeds regardless, his spine bending as he shifts his weight down to settle on jiang cheng's calves, mouth finding purchase in the slender line of skin he finds between the pants he is working on single-handedly opening and the shirt he has begun to push up to jiang cheng's throat with the other. ]