Chapter Text
Six Months Later
Jiang Cheng took a deep breath. He was so tense, he could feel his bones creaking and forced himself to stop clenching his jaw. He just needed to make it a couple more hours, maybe three, without his mother yelling, and Yanli’s birthday would be a success.
Just thinking of his mother had a tendency to summon her. He looked up, and she was there, across the room, glaring at him. Jiang Cheng froze, as he always did, as if he was a small, vulnerable animal instead of the vice-president of product development, a job that had been much easier before she’d fired his genius brother.
Jin Zixuan, who had been playing a role at the party similar to the role a sheepdog plays in a large group of sheep when a coyote is nearby, materialized at Jiang Cheng’s elbow the second Madam Yu looked over at him. “Your brother is safely speaking to Lan Xichen,” he reported, and handed Jiang Cheng a glass of cranberry juice and seltzer. “Stop grinding your teeth.”
“I’m not,” Jiang Cheng said, and ground them harder. “I don’t grind my teeth.”
Jin Zixuan reached over and poked him in the cheek. The muscle pinged, like a rope about to give out under great strain. “We’ll say hi to your mom, and we can go get some air, okay? You’re doing great.”
Jiang Cheng forced his jaw to relax and groped for Zixuan’s hand. He wasn’t completely sure if he was allowed to, outside of the bedroom, but his mother overrode all common sense. “Okay.”
Jin Zixuan squeezed his hand, quick, and didn’t let go. “Madam Yu,” he said, smiling at Jiang Cheng’s mother like she was a normal middle-aged woman and not a literal fire breathing lizard. “The party is lovely. So tasteful! How are you?”
They made five or so minutes of reasonable conversation, Jin Zixuan steering the conversation safely past topics like production problems at work, general problems with Wei Wuxian and the overarching theme of problems with Jiang Fengmian by distracting her with wedding planning questions. “You’re right, a gilded chocolate fountain would be too much,” he said, as if Jin Zixuan had ever seen anything and thought that it needed less gold. They’d fallen asleep in Zixuan’s bedroom with the curtains open recently and the sun the next morning had reflected so brightly Jiang Cheng had worried it was a fire hazard.
Madam Yu was rapidly exhausting her patience with wedding planning discussions, and Jiang Cheng tensed. He never knew what to do to divert the raging force of his mother’s personality. Luckily, Zixuan was much better with things. He caught someone’s eye over Madam Yu’s shoulder, and Yinzhu was there, bringing a latecomer to the party to be introduced to its hostess.
“Show me that spot,” Jin Zixuan said to Jiang Cheng, and squeezed his hand again.
“Are you sure we can leave?” Jiang Cheng asked Jin Zixuan, his eyes flitting over to his brother again. He really wanted to get some air, just the idea of his brother alone with his mom also made him want to barf. “I just -”
“Lan Xichen promised Lan Wangji he’d keep an eye on your hobgoblin too,” Jin Zixuan said, and angled his body so that no one could read his lips. “My baobei needs a break before he gives himself a tension headache, okay?”
Jin Zixuan really only used that pet name when he was looking after Jiang Cheng, and it shot straight through him. “Okay, okay,” he said, slouching over towards Zixuan, and Zixuan smiled at him, the pleased look he got in bed. It did things to Jiang Cheng’s insides that really weren’t family-party appropriate. “This way.”
Lotus Pier was a large property, with many courtyards and gardens. Jiang Cheng took Jin Zixuan through the main house, to the family courtyard, which would be empty while the party was still going on. It didn’t have a view of the lake like some of the other pavilions, but there was a cherry tree Jiang Cheng liked to sit under and it was private.
“No one’s going to interrupt?” Jin Zixuan asked, and squeezed Jiang Cheng’s hand again, pulling him over to the swing under the cherry tree. Every time Zixuan touched him, Jiang Cheng felt pulled back out of his head, into his own body. He was desperately, intensely grateful Zixuan had come home for the weekend with him, and even more grateful he’d told Madam Yu they would stay in a hotel with Wei Wuxian.
“I don’t think so,” Jiang Cheng said, and let himself be pulled down to curl into Zixuan. Zixuan was just about the same height as he was, and Jiang Cheng slouched down to tuck himself under Zixuan’s chin. Zixuan pulled Jiang Cheng’s legs across his lap, and wrapped his arms around him.
“Good?” he asked, and kissed the top of Jiang Cheng’s head. “More?”
“More,” Jiang Cheng agreed, starting to fall into that soft, calm place Zixuan was so good at taking him to. Zixuan nodded, and slid his arm more securely around Jiang Cheng, unbuttoning one sleeve cuff, and then the other. He carefully rolled Jiang Cheng’s sleeves down, past where the ropes had bitten in a little last night, and pulled one wrist, and then the other up to be kissed.
“More?” Zixuan asked, and Jiang Cheng could hear him smiling. It made Jiang Cheng’s chest squeeze tight. If he didn’t have so much trouble with words when he was like this, he would have already accidentally told Zixuan he was in love with him dozens of times.
“More,” Jiang Cheng agreed, and Zixuan pulled his hands together and squeezed his wrists tight into Zixuan’s chest. Jiang Cheng finally felt himself relax, safe with Zixuan holding him. He stopped clenching his teeth and let his jaw fall loose. Oh, Zixuan was right about the headache.
“Mm,” Zixuan said, and started rocking the swing with his foot. “Good boy.”
“Whose,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice slurring, like he’d been drinking, which he hadn’t.
“My good boy,” Zixuan said, the smile back in his voice. It was so good when Zixuan smiled at Jiang Cheng. “Of course.”
Jiang Cheng took a deep breath. In the distance, he could hear the frogs calling on the lake, and smell the lotus blossoms. Zixuan rubbed his thumb, soothing, against the thin skin on the inside of Jiang Cheng’s wrist, his hands over the bruises a grounding spark of sensation. For a minute or two, all Jiang Cheng had to do was float.
“Better?” Zixuan asked, his voice quiet in Jiang Cheng’s ear, and Jiang Cheng took a deep breath, smelling the ginger of Zixuan’s shampoo.
“Mmhmm,” he said, and turned his head to kiss Zixuan’s shoulder. “We should get back in.”
“Car won’t be here for a few more minutes,” Zixuan said, yawning. “You can stay put.”
“Car?” Jiang Cheng asked, suddenly far too alert. “But -”
“No buts,” Zixuan said, and squeezed hard. The kink-positive therapist Zixuan had helped him find had said that BDSM could be a grounding experience for people who got too into their own heads. Jiang Cheng’s whole focus went back to his wrists. It helped. “What’d you talk about with your therapist?”
“I’m not,” Jiang Cheng started, and choked on the next words.
“Not responsible for your adult siblings,” Zixuan finished for him. “And we’re taking Wei Wuxian with us, anyway. I gave him a twenty minute warning.”
“But Yanli,” Jiang Cheng argued, trying not to let Zixuan see that he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Zixuan had been put in therapy after every one of Jin Guangshan’s extramarital excursions, which meant he had basically been continually in therapy since age six. He was almost disgustingly well-adjusted. No one had ever told him he was ‘developing a stress ulcer’ or that he ‘frequently had panic attacks.’ What did those six doctors know, anyway, Jiang Cheng was fine.
“Yanli is a grown woman,” Zixuan said. “Besides, Mianmian is with her, and when we were nine, she swore to be my liegeman of life and limb.”
“The Princess Diana biographies?”
“My mother really over-identified.” Zixuan squeezed again and Jiang Cheng tried to settle. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”
“One more hour at the party,” Jiang Cheng said, which was definitely not an option on the feelings wheel, and tasted acid.
“Baobei, fifteen more minutes in there and I’m going to do the full A-Yao.”
“I’m pretty sure my dad hasn’t thrown you down the stairs, triple-cooked the books and hired an assassin,” Jiang Cheng argued. Those were important prerequisites to the full A-Yao. “And I don’t think you could be the CEO of Jin Corp and the COO of Jiang Corp.”
“Pretty sure A-Yao could run things just fine without me, he just doesn’t want to deal with all the yelling,” Zixuan argued, and kissed the top of Jiang Cheng’s head again. It took all the wind out of Jiang Cheng’s sails. He couldn’t argue with Zixuan if Zixuan was going to go around kissing the top of his head. “You ready to go say goodbye?”
“One more minute?”
“Whatever you want.” A light flicked on inside, nearby, and Jiang Cheng jumped, but no one was looking at them. “Was that your parents’ room?” Zixuan asked, releasing Jiang Cheng and rolling his sleeves back up over his wrists to cover up the marks.
“My dad must be going to bed.” Jiang Cheng sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s go.”
“Did you even see him tonight?” Zixuan asked, reaching out to brush Jiang Cheng’s hair away from his face. Jiang Cheng leaned away. “You could like, go in and say goodnight, couldn’t you?”
Jiang Cheng shook his head, looking away. “Let’s just go, okay?”
Jin Zixuan was more than aware that his own father was an awful person. For one, he was in jail and he very much deserved to be there. He’d cheated on Zixuan’s mother in ways that made Zixuan feel sick thinking about, despite literally twenty years of therapy. He’d thrown Jin Zixuan’s favourite half-brother down a flight of stairs and A-Yao still got weird and sad when it got too cold because all his badly-healed bones ached. Jin Zixuan hated his father.
But Jin Guangshan loved Jin Zixuan. Zixuan could literally roll up to jail right now (well, maybe not right now, he assumed jail had visiting hours) and his father would be overjoyed to see him, even though Jin Zixuan had refused all his calls and made statements to the international press saying, in essence, that he did not like or respect his father. It made it very difficult for him to understand Jiang Cheng’s relationship with Jiang Fengmian.
Jiang Cheng tried so hard, did everything right, and got nowhere with his dad, and then had to pretend it didn’t upset him. Jin Zixuan shook his head, still thinking, and leaned over to wrap his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. Jiang Cheng made a token attempt to squirm away and then leaned into Zixuan’s arm. The light in the bedroom winked out.
Zixuan thought hard about it all through finding Wei Wuxian and saying goodbye at the party (“Look at him and tell me he doesn’t look like Yaoyao,” Nie Mingjue said, his arm casually around Lan Xichen’s waist. “Fine, I admit there’s a resemblance, but A-Yao is far more attractive.” “Of course Yaoyao is more attractive, you think -”), all the way back to the hotel, all the way up to the connecting rooms they were sharing with Wei Wuxian tonight, and Lan Wangji when he arrived the next day.
“Well, I should,” Wei Wuxian started, smiling without it reaching his eyes, looking anywhere but Jiang Cheng. Jiang Fengmian had said hello to him at the party. They’d spoken for a few minutes about Wei Wuxian’s freelance work in Gusu. Wei Wuxian had smiled brightly, but spent the whole conversation giving Jiang Cheng anxious looks over his father’s shoulder. Jin Zixuan thought it was so stupid that Jiang Fengmian got to pit his children against each other so easily.
“No, you idiot,” Jin Zixuan said, and dragged Wei Wuxian into the hotel room. “I didn’t spend an hour figuring out how to connect my computer to the TV so you could fuck off and go to bed.” The Jiang brothers were both intense fans of Great British Bakeoff. Jin Zixuan did not understand it. None of them could cook. Jin Zixuan had literally never turned their stove on. Jiang Cheng could barely operate the keurig in their kitchen and all Wei Wuxian was capable of producing was dangerously seasoned congee. “A-Cheng wants you to stay, right, A-Cheng?”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng admitted, staring fixedly at the emergency instructions on the back of the hotel room door to avoid looking at Wei Wuxian.
“Oh,” said Wei Wuxian, his voice very small. He kept not looking at Jiang Cheng, who kept not looking at him. “Okay.”
Jin Zixuan threw his Wei Wuxian emergency preparedness bundle at his brother-in-law. “Go change.”
“Peacock!” Wei Wuxian said, his voice returning to its regular level of delighted obnoxiousness. Jiang Cheng still wasn’t looking at anyone, but the corner of his mouth was turning up. “Are these my snacks?”
“Those radioactive ghost pepper portals to another dimension can hardly be described as snacks,” Jin Zixuan snarked.
“Did you know they’re banned in Canada and New Zealand?” Wei Wuxian asked, beaming, and disappeared into the bathroom to change into more comfortable clothes.
Jin Zixuan woke the next morning, confused. He was lying in bed, his face pressed into A-Cheng’s shoulder, which was about normal, but he’d been dreaming that Lan Wangji was there, calling for Wei Wuxian. He opened his eyes.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, again, from the open connecting door to Wei Wuxian’s room. He looked amused, or as amused as was possible for someone suffering from facial paralysis to look.
Jin Zixuan sat up and Jiang Cheng grumbled. Oh, they’d fallen asleep watching Bake Off, he realized, looking at Jiang Cheng, who was flat on his back, his head tilted towards Wei Wuxian, drooling on his hair. Wei Wuxian was curled up on his side, holding a bag of the hot sauce snacks like a teddy bear.
“Take a picture,” Jin Zixuan said, yawning.
“It is bold of you to assume I have not taken several,” Lan Wanji said, gravely. “I will text you.”
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian said, and nuzzled the ghost pepper chip bag, which woke him the rest of the way up. “Lan Zhan!”
“Come, Wei Ying. We must depart soon for brunch with Brother and Nie Mingjue,” Lan Wangji said. He nodded gravely to Jin Zixuan.
“Thanks, Peacock!” Wei Wuxian said, and bounced over to Lan Wangji. “Sweet dreams, Chengcheng.”
‘Fuck off,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, and pulled the blankets up higher. Wei Wuxian blew him a kiss and pulled the connecting door shut.
Jiang Cheng rolled over and tucked himself under Jin Zixuan’s chin, the blankets still pulled over his face. Zixuan happily settled one arm around Jiang Cheng, and reached for his phone. Jiang Cheng took a long time to wake up in the morning, and Zixuan had started to love holding him until he was ready to face the day.
Lan Wangji had started a group text with Jiang Yanli for the photos, which were indeed highly adorable. Jiang Yanli had replied with delight, thanking Jin Zixuan with heart-eye emojis, and Zixuan felt a curl of satisfaction low in his gut. Good, he thought. Let everyone know how well he could look after his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s ridiculous brother. Let everyone see how well he took care of what was his.
Jiang Cheng interrupted his thoughts by closing his hand on the cuff of Jin Zixuan’s t-shirt and tugging, just a little. Jin Zixuan tossed his phone away and wrapped both arms around his boyfriend, holding him closer. Jiang Cheng rubbed his nose into Zixuan’s collarbone.
“How are you?” Zixuan asked. Jiang Cheng didn’t answer, just tucked himself a little closer. “Happy? It seemed good with your brother last night.”
Jiang Cheng gave a little nod and a shrug. He was sleep-warm in Zixuan’s arms and his breath was damp on Zixuan’s collarbone. Zixuan couldn’t get over how good it felt, holding him. “Complicated?” Zixuan guessed, and Jiang Cheng nodded again. “Want me to look after you?” Jiang Cheng made an affirmative noise and kissed his collarbone. Zixuan kissed the top of his head. “Alright, go clean up.”
They had all been dealt a very complicated hand, he reflected, listening to the shower running, and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in the hall, leaving for brunch. His phone buzzed again, a picture from Mianmian of Jiang Yanli in light purple silk pajamas, tears in her eyes as she looked at her phone. HOW DARE YOU TRY TO STEAL MY GIRLFRIEND, read the text.
Jin Zixuan smiled. When Mianmian was happy, he was happy. When Wei Wuxian was happy, Jiang Yanli was happy. When Jiang Yanli was happy, Jiang Cheng was happy. Easy. Simple. Something he could not exactly control, but shape. Something good that came from the horrible Jin possessiveness.
For a long time, he’d worried that he’d be just like his father, who saw things he wanted and took them, who was careless and destroyed, like the storybook dragons he’d seen in picture books in kindergarten. Now, when he thought of that rising possessiveness, he thought of his mother’s stories of Meishan, the dragons who guarded the lakes and rivers there. Maybe he could be like that instead.
The shower turned off. Zixuan thought of his brother, who was going by A-Yao because he’d been trying to decide for months whether to be Jin Ziyao or stay Meng Yao, who was ten inches shorter than Zixuan because he hadn’t had enough to eat as a child. A-Yao, who smiled fixedly and stared at the floor when people got angry at him whether or not it was an appropriate or helpful emotional reaction. A-Yao, who had gotten drunk off three beers, looked at Zixuan and said “You know, I was prepared to do some very bad things to you, before I met you,” and then told Zixuan he wouldn’t ask the board to make him the new CEO. A-Yao, who could have been his brother all along, and instead he’d been stuck with fucking Zixun for company. Zixuan understood things being complicated.
Jiang Cheng stood in the doorway to the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, looking uncertain. Zixuan burned for him, he loved him so much. He wasn’t quite sure how to say it yet, but he was having their backyard relandscaped to include a lotus pond while they were away this weekend. He was concerned this gesture would, however, be too subtle.
“On the bed,” Zixuan said, and went to brush his teeth. Jiang Cheng was spread out, naked, when he came back, and Zixuan smiled. This was simple. Making A-Cheng feel good was simple.
He grabbed the cuffs - gold, of course - and the lube from the suitcase, and straddled his boyfriend’s hips. “Can you - tighter?” Jiang Cheng asked, when Zixuan had the cuffs on, and so Zixuan pinned his hands down over his head and squeezed as hard as he could. New marks, next to the old ones. Mine.
“Good?” he asked, leaning down to kiss Jiang Cheng’s open, panting mouth. “Tell me.”
“S’good,” Jiang Cheng mumbled into his mouth, already sounding wrecked.
“More?”
“Yeah.” Zixuan considered for a moment, still perched on Jiang Cheng’s hips. He liked to look, to admire the muscular lines of Jiang Cheng's body and the marks he'd already left there. Mine.
He had an idea. They'd talked about this, a couple weeks ago, as something neither of them had done, and he'd been wanting to try. He wanted to take Jiang Cheng's mind off everything. Wanted to taste him. Wanted take him apart.
"Tell me," he said. Jiang Cheng had heard him say it hundreds of times now, enough to know that it meant “All I care about is whether this is good for you.”
"I will," Jiang Cheng promised, and Zixuan kissed his way down his chest, stopping to refresh a mark his teeth had left the last time they'd fucked, to feel his boyfriend squirm.
"Tell me," he said again, nipping at Jiang Cheng's hipbone, Jiang purple with marks from Zixuan’s hands.
"Zixuan," Jiang Cheng said, his breath coming faster as Zixuan pressed a messy kiss to the crease of his thigh and ducked lower. "A-Xuan, you don't have to… Hnn."
"I know," Zixuan said, and licked against the pink furl of Jiang Cheng's hole again to hear him make the same, choked off noise. "Your brother's gone, A-Cheng, let me hear you."
Jiang Cheng moaned, and then turned his head and bit at his own bound wrist to muffle the sound. Zixuan licked again and pinched the inside of his thigh until Jiang Cheng's moans came through clearly. "Good boy, I want to hear you."
Jiang Cheng's spread thighs trembled as he licked in deeper, tasting soap and salt. Zixuan could feel his core trembling, too, could hear his fiance's voice rasping out his name. This was the kind of power he wanted, the kind that wasn’t power at all.
He loved Jiang Cheng so much.
He wasn't sure he'd like this, but he'd been rock hard in his sweats since the first pass of his tongue. He pulled back and paid more attention to the rim, teasing at it, tugging Jiang Cheng open with his fingers. Jiang Cheng fisted his hands in the sheet and shook as he teased in.
"Can you come like this?" he asked, and Jiang Cheng wound higher, his body trembling. "Can you try?" He pressed a finger in alongside his tongue and used his other hand to find Jiang Cheng's prostate from the outside, keeping a steady rhythm with his hands and his tongue until Jiang Cheng thrashed and came, gasping.
"Very good," he pulled back enough to say, and then fumbled for the lube and crooked two fingers into A-Cheng's hole while he teased in and out with his mouth.
"I can't," Jiang Cheng said, "I can't - don't stop."
"Which, baobei?" Zixuan said, stilling his fingers.
"Don't stop, don't stop!"
"You remember your word? What is it?"
"Sandu! Keep going!" Zixuan crooked his fingers again, and kept going until Jiang Cheng was shaking with it, his voice breaking as he cried out for Zixuan, his whole body trembling against Zixuan's hands, his cock twitching, spurting weakly against his stomach over and over. Zixuan thought he could stay like this forever.
"I can't," Jiang Cheng said finally, his voice cracking. "I can't," and Zixuan pulled his hands away and crawled back up Jiang Cheng's body.
"So good," he said, feelingly, working his jaw, and covered Jiang Cheng's body with his own, his hands going to the bruises he'd left on Jiang Cheng's wrists. "So good for me." A nervous note crept in. "Did you like it?"
Jiang Cheng hiccupped. His face was wet and his eyes were reddening, but he stared up at Zixuan, awed. "You - that was your tongue," he told Zixuan, and hiccupped again.
"I know," Zixuan said, and ducked to kiss his collarbone, not feeling quite right about kissing Jiang Cheng's mouth.
"A-Xuan," Jiang Cheng said, and turned his face to be kissed. He was still shaking, but it had changed, and Zixuan realized he was trying not to laugh. "I liked it."
"Oh thank god," Zixuan said, and kissed him. Jiang Cheng hiccupped again, and then gave up trying to suppress his laughter. "Okay, good."
"Did you?" Jiang Cheng asked and Zixuan felt like he was swimming back into his own body, sensation expanding from the point of his tongue.
"I liked it so much," he said, and stopped himself from rubbing off on Jiang Cheng's hip. "You have no idea. Do you want more?"
“I want to get you off,” Jiang Cheng said, and Zixuan’s hips hitched against him again. That would be enough, adding to the mess cooling on Jiang Cheng’s stomach. It would be more than enough, but - “Give me something to think about at dinner tonight. Fuck me.”
Zixuan groaned and squeezed the base of his cock. Of course they’d fucked before, but it wasn’t an everyday thing. Jiang Cheng was wound so tight, it took serious prep before it was possible, let alone comfortable, to be inside him, and Zixuan was usually so wound up by the time he was done whatever he was doing that he was happy to finish in his own hand or Jiang Cheng’s mouth.
“You sure?” Zixuan asked, and Jiang Cheng nodded and brought his bound hands down over Zixuan’s shoulders - they hadn’t been tied to anything. “I love you so much,” he said, fumbling for the lube and lining himself up and starting to press in, feeling Jiang Cheng’s body, still trembling, open for him. It took him a minute to realize that he’d even said it, and it was only Jiang Cheng’s wondering expression, his brow furrowing a little at the stretch, that let him know he’d done something he hadn’t meant to.
“I love -” Jiang Cheng broke off to gasp as Zixuan bottomed out. “Love you too.”
“Oh fuck,” Zixuan said, panting. He pulled back. “I had this whole thing planned… mmnh… A-Cheng.” Jiang Cheng was writhing against him, trying to take Zixuan deeper again. He took the hint and started to thrust.
“Can you…” Jiang Cheng asked, and broke off to wince, panting. He’d been coming for twenty minutes but his body gripped tight around Zixuan’s cock as he thrust. This was much more about making him feel like Zixuan’s than getting him off. Zixuan ducked his head to kiss Jiang Cheng’s face, his cheekbones, his open mouth.
“I do, I love you,” he said, feeling split open himself. He suddenly wanted to press his hands to Jiang Cheng’s wrists and hold hard, to ground himself, but he liked having his fiance’s arms around him too much to act on the desire. Instead, he reached down and found the handprints he’d left on Jiang Cheng’s hips. “You’re so good to me.” A kiss behind Jiang Cheng’s ear. “You’re mine.”
“A-Xuan,” Jiang Cheng whined, and his fingers bit into Zixuan’s shoulder. “A-Xuan, please. ”
Zixuan shuddered and came into the hot clench of his body, and let himself collapse on top of Jiang Cheng and press his face into the warm space between Jiang Cheng’s neck and shoulder. Jiang Cheng made a small, pained noise and Zixuan let himself slip out. “You okay?” he asked, and turned his head to rub his face into Jiang Cheng’s neck.
“Sore,” Jiang Cheng said, still petting at Jin Zixuan’s shoulder with his bound hands, like Zixuan was the one who needed comforting. “But I wanted to be.”
“Whatever you want,” Zixuan promised, and laughed. “I had this whole big thing planned out,” he told Jiang Cheng again, who turned his head, too, so they could look each other in the eye. “I was going to take you for dinner and tell you and ask you properly to marry me.”
“Undo me,” Jiang Cheng asked, and Zixuan pushed his hands back over his head to release the handcuffs. Jiang Cheng flexed his arms, and then wrapped them tightly around Zixuan. “Okay,” he said, and Zixuan double-blinked and squeezed, a question. “I love you too. I will. You don’t have to buy me dinner.”
“I’m still going to,” Zixuan decided, and rolled, pulling Jiang Cheng with him, to tuck him in against Zixuan’s shoulder. This would probably also be good context for the new backyard landscaping. “It’ll be better because you already said yes.”
“Mmkay,” Jiang Cheng said, and yawned. “Can you say it again?”
“I love you, A-Cheng,” Zixuan said, and loved the way it tasted on his lips.
Jiang Cheng had been dreading the dinner, but his parents had invited enough people that he was seated with Zixuan at a table of his sister’s friends, with Yanli and Mianmian and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and his brother and Nie Mingjue. “I hope you don’t mind,” Yanli was saying to Nie Mingjue across Mianmian, as Jiang Cheng gingerly lowered himself into the thankfully well-padded chair next to hers, trying not to hiss. Zixuan did not make things less obvious by hovering next to him.
“Chengcheng!” Wei Wuxian said. “You look well-”
“Xianxian,” Yanli said.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said.
“Wei Wuxian,” Zixuan said, all at the same time.
“-rested,” Wei Ying finished, and looked primly at Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng tried to glare at him but his scowl wasn’t quite working, particularly when Zixuan pulled his own chair closer so he could sit with his arm draped around Jiang Cheng. He turned and smiled at Zixuan, whose face went achingly soft.
“Super well-rested,” Mianmian agreed, in her brightest ‘that-nice-Luo-Qingyang’ voice. Zixuan’s head whipped up and they engaged in some life-long best-friend telepathy. Nie Mingjue turned his laugh into a cough. Jiang Cheng would usually be bothered by this, he thought to himself, but tonight he just… wasn’t.
“Barcelona,” Zixuan hissed at Mianmian, who laughed and waved him off. Jiang Cheng distantly thought that he should be worried, or something, but he just felt… happy. He kept waiting for the feeling to wear off, but it just grew, everytime Zixuan or A-Jie smiled at him and put more food in his bowl, every time Wei Wuxian made a face at him across the table.
“I’ll be right back,” Zixuan said after dinner, and kissed the top of Jiang Cheng’s head before making significant eye-contact with Mianmian and following Nie Mingjue out of the banquet room.
“What’s that about?” Yanli asked, when Mianmian and Zixuan had both disappeared. Wei Wuxian, who had been half-following the Lan brothers in a conversation about the morality of classical music, stole over and took Zixuan’s seat. He hesitated, and then leaned his head onto Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.
Jiang Cheng put his arm around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. Had it always been so simple to be around his brother? “They’re going to give Mingjue-ge a shovel talk,” he said, and yawned. “He’s dating A-Yao.”
“I thought Xichen-ge was dating A-Yao,” Wei Wuxian said, not touching on Nie Mingjue being five inches taller than Zixuan and more than a foot taller than Mianmian, with limbs like logged timber. Yanli put her arm around Jiang Cheng to pet Wei Wuxian’s head.
“They’re threatening him later,” Jiang Cheng said, and yawned again.
“You look happy, A-Cheng,” Yanli said, softly. Jiang Cheng looked up at the head table for the first time that night. His parents were scowling at each other. Behind them, Zixuan came back through the main door, followed by Mianmian, both looking triumphant, and his face lit up in a huge smile when he saw Jiang Cheng.
“I am,” Jiang Cheng said, and smiled back.
One Year Later
“No marks where my grandma can see,” Jiang Cheng said, suddenly. Jin Zixuan, hilt-deep inside him, chest to Jiang Cheng’s back on their bed, stopped thrusting and double-checked. The hickey he was leaving was well below where Jiang Cheng’s tuxedo shirt would hit. He’d been bound around the forearms rather than the wrists to avoid marks that would show under his cuffs, and Jin Zixuan’s hands would leave bruises on his hips, hidden under the slim-fit pants.
“All good, baobei, anything else?” he asked, stopping to press a kiss under Jiang Cheng’s ear.
“The mark you were leaving felt high,” Jiang Cheng explained. This had been the best year of Jin Zixuan’s life, looking after his fiance, convincing him over and over again that Jin Zixuan could be trusted, that Jin Zixuan would look after him and give him what he needed. Nothing was better than the feeling when A-Cheng stopped, checked in, and decided again to trust him.
“Mark here, shirt here,” Jin Zixuan confirmed, pressing his fingers into Jiang Cheng’s skin. “I can stop though, sweetheart, you okay?”
“Promise it’s okay?”
“Promise.”
Jiang Cheng pushed back against him. “Okay, then go ahead. Felt good.”
Jin Zixuan applied himself again to the mark, and then realized there was a better use for his mouth. “You’re going to look so fucking hot in that tux,” he growled, pulling Jiang Cheng back on his cock. “And then what are you going to say in front of everyone?”
“I’m yours,” Jiang Cheng whimpered, his voice getting quiet, the way it did when he got soft and floaty for Jin Zixuan. “A-Xuan, I’m yours.”
“I’m going to look after you so good,” Jin Zixuan promised, pressing a messy kiss to the knobs of Jiang Cheng’s spine and leaning forward to slide his hands down and play with Jiang Cheng’s nipples. “My husband.”
“Say it again.”
“My husband.” Jiang Cheng made a choked little noise and came all over himself and the pillow under his hips that was holding him in place for Zixuan. “Still good, baobei?” Zixuan asked. “You still like what we planned?”
Jiang Cheng nodded. “A-Xuan. Stay in me,” he mumbled. “All afternoon.” It wasn’t a reward, because Jiang Cheng was always perfect, and so that kind of made everything a reward for good behaviour. He’d mentioned it last night, and Jin Zixuan had cancelled three meetings to keep his cock in him all afternoon. It was difficult for Zixuan to believe that he’d ever thought of himself as a heterosexual.
“Good boy,” Jin Zixuan said, and bit at Jiang Cheng’s neck, already thinking about what he’d do to Madam Yu if she said anything rude to the hobgoblin at their wedding. Maybe he could put alligators in the lotus pond and use them to threaten the guests. “My A-Cheng deserves the very best.”