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. ]
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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. ]