sandalwood and cinnamon

by parsnipit

Summary:

“You should take a few days for yourselves,” Lan Xichen says again. His cheeks are pink now. “You and Wangji.”

“Zewu-jun, I feel very stupid, but I have no idea what you mean. I’m sure it’s only something wrong with my stomach; I’ll be better in a few hours. Lan Zhan can stay here and I’ll be fine on my own.”

Lan Xichen stares at him long enough for Wei Wuxian to see the realization crash into his eyes. “Oh! Oh, Wuxian, you don’t mean this is—is your first—?”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him.

“Wuxian,” Lan Xichen repeats, his voice softening. His cheeks are still pink, but his expression is calm and kind as he explains, “You’re going into heat.”

Very intelligently, Wei Wuxian says, “What.”

Chapter 1

Notes:

warnings: self-loathing, body dysphoria, pain, mentions of vomiting, mentions of nsfw and kink, mentions of mpreg, and references to past violence, child abuse, starvation, and death

Okay, so it’s not Wei Wuxian’s fault that he didn’t know he was going into heat. He’s only been in an omega’s body for two years, now, and to be quite honest he had decided that Mo Xuanyu was infertile after his first missed cycle. It would have made sense. Mo Xuanyu’s body was in terrible condition when Wei Wuxian first got it: exhausted and beaten and half-starved. Then it had gone and missed another cycle, and another, and another, and…

Well, and Wei Wuxian had assumed it would never happen. 

Really, he’d made his peace with that. He’d been a beta in his old body, and never expected to have children anyway. He certainly hadn’t expected to bear them himself. Even if he had wanted children, there was never a safe time to have them—and no one to have them with. a-Yuan had been a miraculous little gift, and he was all the son Wei Wuxian could have hoped for. But if raising him had maybe, possibly, kicked Wei Wuxian’s paternal instincts into high gear…

That was for him to know, and no one else to find out! Except for Lan Zhan, of course, because Lan Zhan was his zhiji and knew everything all the time anyway. They’d discussed adopting another child, now that a-Yuan had gone and grown up, and Wei Wuxian had to admit that the idea excited him. He had missed out on so many years of a-Yuan’s life; he was immensely grateful for every moment they had had together, but something in his chest ached when he realized he would never see a-Yuan lose his baby teeth, or receive his courtesy name, or fumble his way through his gangly teenage years. 

Wei Wuxian had also missed out on learning how to parent alongside Lan Zhan, which was a real travesty! What kind of a father had Lan Zhan been, anyway? A good one, undoubtedly—just look how well a-Yuan turned out!—but how had he spoken with a-Yuan? How had he taught him? How had he comforted him when he woke screaming from nightmares? Had they played games together, and if so, which ones? Wei Wuxian wants to know. Wei Wuxian wants to be there. Wei Wuxian wants to raise a child with Lan Zhan instead of dying and abandoning him to care for a traumatized four-year-old all on his own. 

So yes, they had decided together: yes, they wanted another child. It was only a matter of timing. They had traveled together for several months after the events at Guanyin Temple, basking in their newfound life and freedom, before Lan Zhan invariably led them back to Gusu. Though they were already mates, and considered themselves husbands as far as it mattered, he had wanted to wed in his home with full ceremony and in view of their families, because he refused to be ashamed of Wei Ying.

Really, Wei Wuxian thought he just wanted to show off. He’d been preening—in that subtle, Lannish way of his—for days before and after. That was more than okay with Wei Wuxian. Lan Zhan was cute when he was proud, and the whole thing had made him unbelievably happy. What wouldn’t Wei Wuxian do, to see Lan Zhan smiling so much? Besides, it had been good for Wei Wuxian, too. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe that they were married, that he got to have this, that he got to have Lan Zhan. 

It was far more than he deserved, but he tried not to think about that part for very long because it left a sour lump in his throat—and Lan Zhan would disagree, anyway. (Has disagreed, vehemently, many times.)

They’ve made a home for themselves in Cloud Recesses since then, although Wei Wuxian’s wanderlust is almost as insatiable as his libido. They travel and night-hunt regularly—sometimes just the two of them, and sometimes with little baby Lans in tow. Living is finally starting to feel steady, to feel normal, and Wei Wuxian thinks he might be okay, if things stayed just like this for the rest of his life. He has Lan Zhan, and Lan Sizhui, and a safe place that isn’t going to be swept out from under him. The cultivation clans don’t even hate him anymore, mostly.

(He still hates them. Twin Jades and Jiang Cheng and juniors aside, he hates them, and he thinks he always will. How can he simply forget that these people destroyed the peaceful home he made for himself and howled for his blood? How can he simply forget that these people slaughtered hundreds of innocent civilians—slaughtered Wen Ning and Wen Qing and Granny Wen and Fourth Uncle? He can’t forget. He won’t. He fucking refuses. But he’s taken his revenge for that, already, and a horrible revenge it was. He resigns himself to a bitter truce with the cultivation clans, now, and they with him. It’s the best they can do.)

Every day feels a little safer, a little more secure, and Wei Wuxian warms more to the idea of a new child—many new children, maybe. A big family would be nice. Lots of little Lan Zhans and Wei Wuxians running around, wreaking havoc! Let that be their gift and their punishment to the cultivation world: a generation that will make the previous one roll over in its bloody grave. A generation of peace, and love, and justice. 

Ah, just thinking about it makes him feel warm all over!

Which is—hrm. It’s just not as unusual as it should be. He’s felt abnormally warm for days, now, in more ways than one, and there’s an itch underneath his skin that no amount of scent-marking Lan Zhan seems to soothe. It makes him more irritable than he should be. He always grumbles when Lan Zhan wakes him up in the mornings—but today he growls , and that gives them both pause. 

“...Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian clears his throat and sits up, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He feels very strange. “Huh. Wow. Sorry about that, Lan Zhan.”

“You can sleep more,” Lan Zhan offers magnanimously, “if you wish to.”

“No, no, that’s alright. We have things to do. Night hunt’s not going to prep itself.” He yawns widely enough to crack his jaw, pushing his hair out of his face. “Mm. I don’t mean to be so grumpy. Lan Zhan is very sweet to wake me up with so many kisses.”

And he is— Lan Zhan is the sweetest man in the whole entire world! Wei Wuxian hates waking up, as a general rule of thumb, but waking up to Lan Zhan’s kisses makes every morning better. His grumbling is more for show than anything else. The more he grumbles, the more he gets kissed, so it’s an easy choice! 

Today, however, even Lan Zhan’s kisses are not enough to overcome his general crankiness with the world. He tries to force the feeling down—there’s no reason to take it out on his poor, innocent husband—and offers Lan Zhan a sleepy smile. 

“You’re cute,” he decides, reaching out to cradle Lan Zhan’s face in one hand.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, resting his hand over Wei Wuxian’s. “Wei Ying is also very cute.”

Wei Wuxian leans forward, kissing his husband soundly. He inhales Lan Zhan’s scent—soft, musky sandalwood—before nudging his head beneath Lan Zhan’s chin to encourage him to mark. Lan Zhan readily obliges, dragging the scent glands below his jaw along Wei Wuxian’s hair. He lingers longer than usual, mouthing at the edge of Wei Wuxian’s jaw until Wei Wuxian returns the favor and covers Lan Zhan with his own scent. 

“Wei Ying smells nice today,” Lan Zhan murmurs. 

“Flatterer.” Wei Wuxian kisses the bridge of Lan Zhan’s nose, the precious soft spaces beneath his eyes. He’s not the best judge of his own scent, but it does seem stronger than usual. They should probably wash the bedcovers soon. “Only today?”

“Wei Ying smells nice every day,” Lan Zhan amends, sitting patiently as Wei Wuxian nuzzles his face and throat. “But especially nice today.”

“And now Lan Zhan smells like me,” Wei Wuxian announces, with an entirely warranted air of satisfaction. Lan Zhan’s scent is impossibly lovely, rich and deep and mellow. The only thing that improves it is a layer of Wei Wuxian’s own citrus-and-cinnamon scent, screaming to the world that this man is loved and cherished and wanted beyond all measure. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, pleased. After a pause, he asks, “Has Wei Ying been sleeping enough?”

“I’ve been sleeping just fine,” Wei Wuxian assures him, and it’s only a little bit of a lie. He’s been waking up more often than usual to untangle himself from the blankets, sweaty and miserably hot, but he usually manages to fall asleep again within minutes. “Don’t worry, Lan Zhan. I only growled because you startled me. I must have been having a weird dream, but I don’t remember it. I’m really okay.”

“You would tell me, if you were not?”

Wei Wuxian sits back, dropping one final kiss onto the tip of Lan Zhan’s nose. “I would.”

Lan Zhan meets his eyes for a moment, and whatever he sees on Wei Wuxian’s face must pass inspection, because he nods and moves back. Wei Wuxian stumbles out of bed after him, stretching himself leisurely before melting into a puddle of red robes on the floor in front of their table. Breakfast is already out: bowls of sweet congee and youtiao. 

“Mm, Lan Zhan, you spoil me,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching for his spoon. The congee is thick and warm and very, very sweet, just the way Wei Wuxian likes it. Truly, his mate is the perfect man. 

“It is what Wei Ying deserves,” Lan Zhan says serenely, taking a seat across from him. 

“Ah, you sweet-talker, you!” 

Wei Wuxian eats quickly, chattering around mouthfuls of flaky youtiao, before reaching for a second helping. He’s been so hungry this past week. He must be working harder than usual! If Lan Zhan notices, he doesn’t say anything; he only pushes the pot of congee closer to Wei Wuxian’s side of the table. The food improves Wei Wuxian’s mood drastically, and by the time they’ve finished breakfast he’s feeling downright cheerful. 

“I’ll just get dressed and meet you in the Library Pavilion after I drop these off,” he says, gathering their dishes to deliver to the servants. “Okay, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“Are you inviting the juniors? It would be good practice for them. They need to learn to research these things on their own.”

“Mn.”

“Oh, good! And I’ve been thinking we ought to send a message to Jin Ling since we’ll be passing through Lanling. I’ll have one of the juniors draft the message so they learn how to do that, too.”

“...mn.”

“What, you don’t think that’s a good idea?”

“Wei Ying is a very wise teacher,” Lan Zhan says, folding his hands in his lap, “but the juniors are not diplomats.”

Wei Wuxian clucks his tongue, peeling himself out of his nighttime robes. He stretches again, just to watch Lan Zhan’s gaze flick appreciatively over him, before reaching for his daytime robes. “Fortunately, neither is Jin Ling. But I suppose it wouldn’t do to offend him on purpose—hm, how about this? I’ll have them all draft a message and then I’ll look them over to pick the best one. I’ll make edits if I have to. Although, Lan Zhan, you know I’m not a diplomat either. Maybe you should be the one editing them.”

Lan Zhan stands, nodding. “That is a good idea.”

“Why thank you, husband.” Wei Wuxian pads over to him, robes draped over his arm, and allows Lan Zhan to run warm palms across his sides. The touch is nice, soothing, and should arouse him. It does not. Instead, another flicker of irritation rears its head in him as Lan Zhan reaches for his hips. He steps back, baffled by his own reactions. “Ah, Lan Zhan—later, okay? I don’t want to be late.”

Wei Wuxian very rarely has a problem with being late, and Lan Zhan knows this. Even so, he draws his hands back at once, dipping his chin. “Whatever Wei Ying wishes.”

Lan Zhan is such a good boy. 

Wei Wuxian leans up to kiss him goodbye, humming happily, seconds before he hears the crunch of footsteps outside of the Jingshi. Lan Zhan immediately tenses, his eyes narrowing as he turns his face from Wei Wuxian. Now, here is the thing about Lan Zhan: he is an alpha. He does not, however, subscribe to stereotypical alpha ideals. He does not throw his weight around in an attempt to impress or intimidate those around him. He does not speak loudly, or act aggressively, or otherwise use his biology to defend rude behavior. He has never forced Wei Wuxian’s submission—he had, in fact, recoiled the first time Wei Wuxian suggested he do so for their mutual satisfaction. 

(They’ve negotiated the shit out of that particular kink, now, and it is quite mutually satisfying—but Lan Zhan had been nervous about it at first. He had not wanted to hurt Wei Wuxian. He had not wanted to damage the trust built between them. Submission gained through fear or pain was never something he wanted, especially not from Wei Wuxian, and so he’s never had it. Wei Wuxian submits to him freely, happily, readily, even when he likes to pretend he doesn’t. Sometimes it’s fun to fight Lan Zhan, just a little bit.)

So! Lan Zhan is not a brash, irascible alpha. He is kind and sweet and patient. But there is one area in which Lan Zhan tends to be less mild-mannered, and Lan Xichen had been the one to explain it to Wei Wuxian, two years ago. Lan Zhan has always been possessive of those people and things he loves; it was something, Lan Xichen thought, that he learned from their father—and it was something he unlearned every time he let Wei Wuxian walk away from him. He would never force someone to stay beside him, no matter how much he wanted to. He respects his loved ones far too much to even contemplate such a thing.

Such qualms do not extend to his belongings.

Lan Zhan is, hands-down, the most territorial person Wei Wuxian has ever met. 

Lan Xichen said he’d always been a little territorial, but the issue had increased tenfold after Wei Wuxian died. The Jingshi had been Lan Zhan’s only safe place back then: the place in which he had healed from his whip wounds, in which he had raised a-Yuan, in which he had hidden from the condemnation of the cultivation world. He had been in seclusion while he healed, and thus for years no one had entered the Jingshi save a-Yuan and Lan Xichen.

The moment someone else had tried to, he attacked them viciously.

So there is a boundary around the Jingshi which only four people may cross, now, and Lan Zhan enforces it ruthlessly. No one comes close enough to truly anger him anymore—no one is stupid enough to dare—and so Wei Wuxian does not tense when he hears footsteps outside. He suspects it’s either Lan Xichen or Lan Sizhui, and a quick sniff confirms the presence of the latter. Lan Sizhui smells like woodsmoke and apples, familiar and fond. Wei Wuxian quickly worms out of Lan Zhan’s arms to tug his robes on so he can greet their wonderful, perfect, amazing son. 

Lan Zhan has not relaxed.

Lan Zhan should have relaxed by now.

“Lan Zhan…?” Wei Wuxian bumps Lan Zhan gently with his shoulder. “It’s only a-Yuan.”

Lan Zhan’s nostrils flare as he scents the air—confirming, no doubt, the same thing Wei Wuxian had. A muscle in his jaw clenches. Wei Wuxian hears his teeth grind. This is not the proper response to (and again, Wei Wuxian really can’t emphasize this enough) their wonderful, perfect, amazing son. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Er-gege, Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian sing-songs, placing himself in front of Lan Zhan and tugging his robes. Worry wiggles its way into his chest when Lan Zhan doesn’t even look at him. “What are you doing now, hm? What’s the matter?”

Before Lan Zhan can respond, Lan Sizhui raps his knuckles on the Jingshi’s door. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to call a cheerful greeting; Lan Zhan lowers his head and growls. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, more surprised than anything. Lan Zhan doesn’t growl like that. Lan Zhan certainly doesn’t growl at their son. “Stop that. What has gotten into you?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes snap down to meet his. He looks just as startled as Wei Wuxian feels. “I...do not know. Forgive me.”

Did Lan Zhan just hesitate? Ah, something must really be wrong. This is a mystery Wei Wuxian needs to get to the bottom of, at once!

“Hanguang-jun? Wei-qianbei?” Lan Sizhui’s voice is timid, now, uncertain. “I can come back later if now is a bad time.”

“Nonsense!” Wei Wuxian pulls the Jingshi’s door open, beaming at Lan Sizhui. Lan Sizhui smiles back at him, shy and sweet, before ducking into a quick bow. Wei Wuxian wants to move aside and immediately usher him in, but…“Lan Zhan! Say hello to your son.”

Lan Zhan nods politely at Lan Sizhui, although his shoulders remain tense. “Good morning, Sizhui. I apologize for startling you.”

“Ah, no, Hanguang-jun, that’s alright.” Lan Sizhui glances at Lan Zhan, and then quickly glances away again. Something uncomfortable curdles in Wei Wuxian’s stomach; has something happened between the two of them that he isn’t aware of? “I just came to let you know that the juniors are waiting for you in the Library Pavilion. I will attend to them. Please, don’t rush.”

“We will be along shortly. Thank you for your patience.”

“Yes, Hanguang-jun.” Lan Sizhui bobs into another quick bow before scrambling—as much as any Lan can scramble, anyway—away from the Jingshi.

“Ai,” Wei Wuxian says mournfully, sliding the door shut behind him. “I don’t think he’s ever run so fast from me. Did something happen between the two of you? You’re acting strange.”

“No.” Lan Zhan frowns, tucking his chin so he can look at the floor. “Nothing has happened that I am aware of, at least. I do not know why I behaved that way.”

Well, at least they can both acknowledge that Lan Zhan is acting weird! That’s a start.

Wei Wuxian rubs his nose, humming thoughtfully. “You didn’t invite him in.”

“No.”

“You growled at him.”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan’s shoulders lift, a fraction of an inch; a little turtle drawing into its little shell.

“Are you angry at him?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head too quickly for it to be a lie. “I am not. I simply felt as though I did not want him inside, at that moment. It was peculiar.”

“Peculiar indeed,” Wei Wuxian muses. He reaches out, lacing their fingers together and squeezing Lan Zhan’s hand. “We’ll figure it out, but right now the juniors are waiting on us. We need to make a decision. Do you feel up to seeing them, or do you want to stay here today? I really can handle them; it’s only research.”

“I want to be with Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says immediately.

Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand again. “Do you want me to stay here with you, then? I’m sure we can find someone else to watch the kids.”

Lan Zhan pauses to think, then says, “That will be unnecessary.”

“You’re sure? You’ll tell me if you change your mind?”

“Mn.”

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

They go to find the juniors, and Lan Zhan manages to behave himself for most of the morning. He’s calmer, outside of the Jingshi, and Wei Wuxian could almost jot this morning’s odd behavior down as a fit of territorial aggression—but that’s not quite right. Even away from his territory, Lan Zhan stays glued to Wei Wuxian’s side and stiffens whenever someone approaches them, his pupils shrinking within the golden pools of his irises. The juniors keep more distance than usual, and their eyes are deferentially downcast whenever they do approach.

Wei Wuxian sort of hates it.

That could just be his own unusual irritability surging up, though. He’s especially grouchy by late afternoon: hungry and itchy and overheated. His stomach hurts, too. It’s not a hurt like any he’s felt before. It doesn’t feel like sickness or anxiety, but it aches. He steps outside for fresh air, raking his hair back where sweat has glued it to his temples. Lan Zhan notices his absence after approximately two microseconds and materializes at his side.

Wei Wuxian loves Lan Zhan. He loves Lan Zhan so much. He would die for this man a hundred times. He would kill for this man a thousand more. There is nothing on Earth he would not do to see Lan Zhan happy. He loves Lan Zhan beyond reason and measure and time.

Right now he is very tired of Lan Zhan’s hovering.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan’s voice is soft with worry. “Are you well?”

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says stiffly—but this isn’t Lan Zhan’s fault, and he has to remember that. He takes a deep breath and gentles his voice. “I just need some space. Just a few minutes, okay? Go back inside and keep an eye on the juniors.”

Lan Zhan hesitates, but ultimately obeys. 

Wei Wuxian leans against the wall, tipping his head back and taking several more deep breaths. He feels worse by the minute. Is he actually sick? He thought he was telling the truth when he told Lan Zhan he was okay this morning, but now he’s beginning to wonder. A particularly sharp cramp starts in his stomach and works its way through his abdomen, and his breath hitches on a quiet gasp. 

“Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian glances up, relieved to see Lan Xichen rounding the corner of the pavilion porch. Lan Xichen is knowledgeable, and kind, and perfectly capable of minding the juniors if Wei Wuxian suddenly decides he needs to go vomit profusely somewhere. 

“Zewu-jun,” he greets. “Hey. Lan Zhan is inside.”

Lan Xichen’s brow furrows as he steps closer. “Are you well?”

Too observant, these Twin Jades!

“I’ll be okay,” Wei Wuxian promises. “I think I ate something bad, that’s all.”

Lan Xichen tips his chin up, scenting the air. As soon as he does, his eyes widen. “Ah. Wuxian, are you…?”

“Am I…?” Wei Wuxian repeats, wincing as another cramp rolls through him. At this rate, he really is going to have to abandon the juniors.

“Your scent is changing,” Lan Xichen says gently. “Have you considered taking a break for a week or so?”

The question is phrased with an air of polite tactfulness, a hint hint, which would be great if Wei Wuxian weren’t literally the densest person on the planet. 

“What?”

“You should take a few days for yourselves,” Lan Xichen says again. His cheeks are pink now. “You and Wangji.”

“Zewu-jun, I feel very stupid, but I have no idea what you mean. I’m sure it’s only something wrong with my stomach; I’ll be better in a few hours. Wangji can stay here. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Lan Xichen stares at him long enough for Wei Wuxian to see the realization light his eyes. “Oh! Oh, Wuxian, you don’t mean this is—this is your first—?”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. 

“Wuxian,” Lan Xichen repeats, his voice softening. His cheeks are still pink, but his expression is calm and kind as he says, “You’re going into heat.”

Very intelligently, Wei Wuxian says, “What.”

“You’re in pre-heat. I imagine you’ll be in full heat within the next couple of days.” Lan Xichen pauses, then asks, “This is your first time?”

“Aha, no, Zewu-jun must be mistaken.” Wei Wuxian laughs nervously, shaking his head. “This body is infertile. It hasn’t had a heat as long as I’ve been in it.”

Lan Xichen’s mouth purses as he considers this. “Perhaps. But you’re cramping, aren’t you?”

“Just something I ate,” Wei Wuxian insists, because to think otherwise would be to turn the whole world on its head. 

“Have you been having hot flashes? Are you hungrier than normal? More irritable, perhaps?”

Each symptom listed—so perfectly aligned with what Wei Wuxian has been experiencing these past few days—drives a bolt of fearful disbelief through Wei Wuxian’s gut. He knew he was an omega, but he wasn’t—he wasn’t an omega. His stomach clenches at the thought. His palms feel clammy with sweat. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so anxious (it shouldn’t matter that much, should it?) but he is. 

“But I’m not—Zewu-jun, I’m not—” The words feel clumsy in his mouth. “I’m not an omega.”

“Ah, Wuxian.” Lan Xichen’s face creases with sympathy. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Wei Wuxian thinks that is a very good idea. He folds his shaky legs and slides down to sit on the porch of the pavilion, breaths coming raspy and fast. He knows this reaction isn’t normal, but he thought—gods, he thought he knew this body! He’s finally started to feel comfortable in it, to feel like he belongs, and now this?! It’s a cold shock of a reminder that this isn’t his, that this isn’t him and never will be. He’s a stranger to his own skin. 

A humiliating, miserable whimper catches in Wei Wuxian’s throat, and Lan Xichen opens his mouth to speak again. His sense of timing ever-impeccable, Lan Zhan choses this moment to slam through the Library Pavilion doors. His robes billow around him, and his lips peel back from his teeth in a silent warning as he approaches Lan Xichen. Wei Wuxian hears the juniors behind him cry out in alarm—hears Lan Sizhui call, his voice full of fear, “Hanguang-jun!” 

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, carefully stepping back and baring his throat.

Wei Wuxian stares at them both, stricken. Just like Lan Zhan has never growled at Lan Sizhui, he’s never shown his teeth to Lan Xichen. As though Lan Xichen could possibly be a threat! He’s an omega, and Wei Wuxian’s friend, and Lan Zhan’s beloved brother. That Lan Zhan should think of him as an enemy is—is—!

But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Lan Zhan isn’t thinking right.

All of this unusually aggressive behavior—it’s all because of Wei Wuxian. He’s going into heat, and he’s dragging Lan Zhan through Cloud Recesses like it doesn’t even matter, like he doesn’t mind who he spends his heat around, like he hasn’t even a single thought to spare for how much stress he must be putting his alpha under. No wonder Lan Zhan is so tense. Shit. Shit, Wei Wuxian is so stupid.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, and Lan Zhan’s eyes immediately snap to him. “Lan Zhan, I’m sorry! It isn’t Zewu-jun’s fault.”

Lan Zhan spares his brother one final, cautious glance before kneeling next to Wei Wuxian. His hands flit across Wei Wuxian’s face, his neck, his shoulders—abnormal, anxious movements with no purpose but to reassure himself of Wei Wuxian’s presence. “You are upset. What happened?”

Wei Wuxian catches Lan Zhan’s hands, folding them between his own. No point beating around the bush, he supposes, and he’s never been much for subtlety anyway: “I’m going into heat.”

Lan Zhan blinks once, twice. 

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian blurts again, squirming uncomfortably. “I didn’t know or I would have told you right away. I wouldn’t have been running around like this—I didn’t mean to upset you! You believe me, don’t you? Lan Zhan? I would never upset you on purpose. Well. Well, I mean, I would, but only in a fun way and not like this and so I’m really very sorry and I understand if you’re mad at me but I—”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice, firm and unyielding, breaks through the torrent of his thoughts. “Between us, there is no need for ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry.’” 

Which only makes Wei Wuxian want to apologize again, but he has to settle for hunching his shoulders and mumbling, “Well, still. Still.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says gently. “The two of you should return to the Jingshi. Take the week off.”

Lan Zhan stands, drawing Wei Wuxian to his feet. “Mn.”

“May I accompany you?” Lan Xichen asks. Lan Zhan’s jaw clenches, but Lan Xichen isn’t looking at Lan Zhan—he’s looking at Wei Wuxian. “I know you must be confused. I can explain some things; it won’t take long, I promise.”

Is Wei Wuxian—

Is Wei Wuxian about to have The Talk with his mate’s big brother?

As if this day couldn’t possibly be more embarrassing—and yet, there’s a comfort in it, too. Wei Wuxian is confused. He knows about the very basics of a heat cycle, but only from a distant and academic standpoint. He’s certainly never experienced one himself. What’s going to happen to him? What’s going to happen to Lan Zhan? Wei Wuxian has already messed things up because of his ignorance; he doesn’t want to do it again.

At the same time, however, he feels like he’s trampled over Lan Zhan’s instincts enough for the day. He doesn’t want to upset him any further—and having someone in the Jingshi right now, no matter how well-loved that someone is, would almost certainly do that. 

“I—Zewu-jun, I would like that,” Wei Wuxian says, finally, “but I’ll leave it up to Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan glances at him, startled.

“It’s your home, Lan Zhan, and if you don’t want anyone in it now that’s your right. I don’t want you to feel insecure.”

“It is our home,” Lan Zhan corrects. He takes a deep breath, then looks back to Lan Xichen and bows. “Xiongzhang, I apologize. I acted rashly. But please, if you would, come with us. I believe your knowledge would ease both of our minds.”

“Then I will be come after you. Let me settle the juniors first.”

Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to the Jingshi, hands linked, and sit down on the stairs. Wei Wuxian stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back on his palms; the coarse, sun-warmed grain of the wood grounds him in this body. Lan Zhan sits closer than usual, a solid line of comfort at Wei Wuxian’s side. His eyes are distant and contemplative as he thinks.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks, quietly. “You’re really not angry at me?”

“I am not.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian digs the toe of his boot into the pale shards of gravel before him. “I did feel fine this morning. I just started feeling bad this afternoon; I would have told you.”

“You feel badly?” The corners of Lan Zhan’s eyes crease with concern.

“Not badly badly. I’m just cramping.”

“Mm. I will run you a bath.”

“Lan Zhan, you don’t have to—”

“I will run you a bath.”

Wei Wuxian groans, defeated, and sprawls out on the stairs as Lan Zhan vanishes into the Jingshi. Lan Xichen joins him several minutes later, standing some distance away. Wei Wuxian wants to invite him in, but doesn’t think that’s a particularly good idea; he tells Lan Xichen as much, and Lan Xichen agrees. 

“Alphas can be especially territorial during a rut,” he says calmly, “but you knew that already.”

Wei Wuxian did know that. What he did not know was that—“Lan Zhan’s in rut?”

“If he isn’t already, he will be shortly, I’d imagine. Now that the two of you are mates, your cycles will align.” Lan Xichen nods to Lan Zhan as he joins them outside. “Wangji. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

“There is no rush. I believe Wei Ying and I both have questions that we would like answered.”

“Well, Lan Zhan can start,” Wei Wuxian says, scooting over to lean back against Lan Zhan’s legs.

“Mn. Wei Ying is in heat?”

Lan Xichen nods. “He will be soon. He has all the symptoms of pre-heat.”

“Which are?” Lan Zhan asks, glancing down at Wei Wuxian.

Mournfully, Wei Wuxian counts them off on his fingers: “I’m hot and hungry all the time, I feel itchy, I smell weird, my stomach hurts, and I’m grumpy.”

“Wei Ying is not grumpy.”

“Lan Zhan.”

“...Wei Ying is slightly grumpy,” Lan Zhan allows, “but given that he is dealing with all these unpleasant things, he has a right to be.”

Wei Wuxian pats his leg fondly. “Good answer.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?” Lan Xichen asks. 

“A few days, I guess? I didn’t think much of it, before.”

“That is understandable. The symptoms can be gradual at first. But it is good that you know what they feel like now—next time, you’ll be able to prepare well in advance. Most omegas stay close to home during this time.”

Wei Wuxian winces. “I’m sorry I didn’t. Lan Zhan, it must have made you anxious.”

“It is not Wei Ying’s fault. He did not know.” Lan Zhan’s mouth twists, just slightly. “Neither did I. I regret that I did not pay more attention.”

“You could hardly be expected to know the symptoms of a pre-heat, either, especially if Wei Wuxian did not think enough of them to tell you himself,” Lan Xichen chastises. “Don’t be too hard on yourselves. Your situation is very unusual.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, although bitterness curls at the edge of the noise. “You can say that again. I still don’t know what I’m doing in this body. It’s all so strange.”

“It will be especially strange the first time,” Lan Xichen admits. “Would you like me to bring you texts from the library? They may explain some matters more, ah, in-depth than I can.”

Wei Wuxian glances between the Twin Jades. Both sets of ears are pink, and they will not look at each other. He can’t help but grin. Then he imagines having this conversation with his brother, and he feels quite a bit more sympathy (and quite a bit more revulsion) after that.

“That would be very helpful, Zewu-jun,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He gestures to his whole body, frowning. “I really don’t know what’s happening in here.”

“I will bring the texts,” Lan Xichen agrees at once. “But in the meantime, are there any more questions I can answer for you?”

“There’s one thing that bothers me. It’s been two years in this body,” Wei Wuxian says, “and it’s never had a heat before. Why would it just have one all of a sudden?”

“Well, your body was in poor shape when you got it, wasn’t it?” Lan Xichen asks. When Wei Wuxian nods, he continues, “Then it stands to reason that it simply wasn’t capable of bearing children at that point. The body shuts down cycles when they’re unsustainable. Now that you’re here, and healthy, and safe...well, perhaps your body has decided a child wouldn’t be a completely unreasonable thing.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s hope or abject terror.

“Do you want a child?” Lan Xichen asks softly, looking between them. “It is very easy to conceive during a heat. If you don’t want one, precautions must be taken. There is a draught that will render an alpha temporarily infertile; I can fetch it for you when I go to get the texts.”

Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan looks back at Wei Wuxian.

“We’ll—we’ll have to talk about it,” Wei Wuxian says haltingly. 

Lan Xichen bows his head. “Of course. Only let me know before your heat begins. I should not want to disrupt you then.”

No, he should not, Wei Wuxian thinks distantly, and a touch hysterically. Lan Zhan would probably tear his head off.

It’s a frankly ridiculous thought. Wei Wuxian hates that it might be true.

“How long will this last?” Lan Zhan asks.

“No more than a week, I should think.”

Wei Wuxian looks up, clenching the edges of his robes in his fists. “Will it happen again?”

“I couldn’t say,” Lan Xichen says apologetically. “I would expect so, but I’m no physician. Most omegas cycle every few months, but then, you’re not most omegas, Wuxian. What your body has been through—I don’t know how it will effect this.”

Wei Wuxian nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“We should summon a physician, then,” Lan Zhan decides.

“Eh? Right now?” Wei Wuxian glances up at him, arching his eyebrows.

Lan Zhan’s mouth twists, slightly. He might as well be wailing his discomfort with the idea. “Wei Ying’s health is of the upmost importance. Waiting will not help us.”

“There’s no need to rush. I’m not ill, I’m just—” Wei Wuxian flails his hands helplessly. “We can wait until after. Really, Lan Zhan. You’re stressed enough.”

“It is not about me.”

“It’s as much about you as it is me,” Wei Wuxian argues. “We cycle together. But fine—if you must know, it stresses me out too much. I don’t want anyone else around. I only want Lan Zhan.”

Lan Xichen and Lan Zhan look away from each other again, the tips of their ears flaming red. 

“Very well,” Lan Zhan concedes. His voice is rougher than usual, and it sends a thrill down Wei Wuxian’s spine. “We will wait until after your heat. Xiongzhang, would you schedule a meeting with Zhao Chenguang for us in week’s time?”

“Of course, Wangji. If there’s nothing else the two of you need…?”

Once they confirm that there is, in fact, nothing else, Lan Xichen takes his leave with the promise to return before dinnertime with many informative texts. As soon as he’s gone, Lan Zhan herds Wei Wuxian into the bath. He sinks to his nose in the water, blowing bubbles beneath the surface. The heat of it soothes the growing ache in his abdomen, and the soft smell of camelia and lavender makes him drowsy. Lan Zhan sits next to him, running one hand steadily over his hair as he soaks. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, after several minutes, and Wei Wuxian hums in acknowledgement, unwilling to surface enough to speak. “Do you want me to stay with you this entire time?”

That gets him to surface. He bursts out of the water, his eyes frantically wide. “Lan Zhan! Of course I want you to stay! What are you saying?”

Lan Zhan places his hands on Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and presses him back into the water. “If Wei Ying wants me to stay, then I will not leave for anything,” he says seriously. “I only ask because I do not want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I would be much more uncomfortable without you,” Wei Wuxian says, grasping Lan Zhan’s hand tightly when it tries to return to his hair. The idea of suffering through this strange, confusing, unpleasant ordeal alone is—is—“Lan Zhan, you can’t leave!”

Lan Zhan leans forward, pressing his mouth to Wei Wuxian’s temple. “I will not leave.”

“I’ll cry if you do. I’ll cry for the rest of my life. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I will not leave.”

“You’ll get so sick of listening to me complain about it. You’ll have to tape my mouth shut. I’d never let you live it down.”

“Wei Ying. I will not leave.”

Wei Wuxian sinks back into the water, blinking at his mate through a layer of iridescent bubbles. Lan Zhan seizes the opportunity to wet his hair. He lathers it with shampoo next, easing his fingers through tangles so gently that Wei Wuxian hardly notices. When Lan Zhan rinses his hair out, he cups a hand over Wei Wuxian’s eyes to keep them clear of the suds. Wei Wuxian’s heart beats in his throat and the pads of his fingers.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, when he sits up again, “you really can leave, if you want. I wouldn’t ever hold it against you like that. I know this body must make you uncomfortable since it isn’t mine, not really, and—”

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flick uncertainly in his direction.

“I want to be here,” Lan Zhan says firmly. “I do not want to leave.”

Wei Wuxian wraps his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest. “You’re sure you’re not just saying that because you’re in rut?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan sounds subtly offended, now, and Wei Wuxian winces. “I am your mate. I am your husband. If you need me here—if you want me here—then there is nowhere else I would rather be. I do not care about the rut. I care about Wei Ying.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian offers Lan Zhan a wobbly smile. “You really are too good.”

“There is no such thing as too good for Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian reaches out, clapping a hand gently over Lan Zhan’s mouth. “Ai, you!” he scolds, his cheeks hot. “You musn’t say things like that, especially now. I’ll combust.”

Lan Zhan hums noncommittally and then kisses his palm. 

At this rate, Wei Wuxian really is going to combust.

“Lan Zhaaaan,” he whines. “Have mercy on your poor husband.”

“Mm.” Lan Zhan reaches for a washcloth, dipping it into the water before lathering it with soap. He picks up Wei Wuxian’s hand, scrubbing each finger carefully before rubbing small circles over his palm. “I will consider it. You have had a difficult day.”

“So have you,” Wei Wuxian points out. “I must have been driving you nuts. Poor Lan Zhan must have been so confused!”

Lan Zhan inclines his head and does not deny it. “It was not your fault,” he reiterates. “You did not know.”

“What did you think was happening?”

“I did not know, either,” Lan Zhan admits, running the washcloth along Wei Wuxian’s arm before tucking it into his armpit. Aiya, that tickles! Wei Wuxian squirms, biting his lower lip, and sees an almost-smile soften the edges of Lan Zhan’s mouth. He lingers there longer than he really needs to, cruel husband! “I thought perhaps I was coming into rut early, but I could not figure out why. I was not expecting you to come into heat.”

“Oops?” Wei Wuxian says, smiling sheepishly at him. 

“It is not a bad thing.” Lan Zhan pauses, dragging the washcloth gently across Wei Wuxian chest. “Does Wei Ying not like it?”

“I’m not sure,” Wei Wuxian confesses into the warm, quiet space between them. There is no safer place to settle his secrets. “It’s—it reminds me that this body isn’t mine. It doesn’t feel good. It forced you into a rut.”

“I do not mind the rut if I can share it with Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says simply, which makes Wei Wuxian’s cheeks flame all over again. This man!! “But I am sorry it makes you feel this way. If it is any consolation, I believe that once the pre-heat symptoms fade you will feel much more pleasant.”

“Lan Zhan!”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, utterly unruffled.

“And he calls me shameless,” Wei Wuxian complains to no one in particular. Lan Zhan presses him back with one soapy finger to clean his belly and sides, then dips the washcloth between his legs. When Wei Wuxian winces, he immediately draws back. “Ah—Lan Zhan, it doesn’t feel good there. I thought that was the whole point! I’m going to be very miffed if I was misinformed all these years.”

“I do not believe you were misinformed, but you may ask Xiongzhang about it if you are truly concerned.”

“No thank you,” Wei Wuxian squawks. “I’m sure it will be better after the pre-heat, just like Lan Zhan says.”

“And if it is not better, then I shall not touch you there,” Lan Zhan decides. “I do not want to cause Wei Ying discomfort.”

“But won’t you be...you know?” Wei Wuxian glances unrepentantly at Lan Zhan’s crotch. It is a very nice crotch, and worthy of much staring. “In rut by then? You’ll want to.”

“It does not matter. I am not ruled by my biology,” Lan Zhan says, in a tone that makes it very clear how distasteful he finds those who are—or who claim to be, in any case. 

“But you do want to, right?”

“Do not play the fool.” Lan Zhan leans forward, nuzzling along Wei Wuxian’s temple. His breath ruffles Wei Wuxian’s hair as his hands press Wei Wuxian’s thighs apart to clean the creases of his legs. “Wei Ying knows I always want to, with him.”

Wei Wuxian ducks under the water because if he does not he will simply explode.

When he surfaces again, his lungs are burning and Lan Zhan has finished cleaning his legs. “Lan Zhan!” he says urgently.

“Mm?”

“I love you!”

Lan Zhan smiles—a small, gentle curve of a thing that lights his whole face. “As I love Wei Ying.”

“We need to talk about having a baby!”

“Mn. We do.”

“You know I want a baby with you, Er-gege. You know I want lots of babies with you.”

Lan Zhan lowers his head, so that his hair falls around his face. This is criminal! Wei Wuxian should always be allowed to see his husband’s blush! “Mn. I want many children with Wei Ying, as well.”

Wei Wuxian squirms, abnormally pleased by the admission. “Good! That’s good. But Lan Zhan, I’m—” He fidgets, looking down at the froth of bubbles around him. “I didn’t think it would happen right now, like this.”

“I did not, either.” Lan Zhan takes a deep breath. “Wei Ying, I am not ready.”

“Oh thank god.” Wei Wuxian leans forward to cup his face, squishing Lan Zhan’s cheeks between his palms. “I’m not ready either. I thought I was, but that was before I knew I could get pregnant. I know I joke about it I’m not sure I actually want to be pregnant, Lan Zhan. It sounds terribly unpleasant! On the other hand, if it was Lan Zhan getting me pregnant…”

He pauses to think about that, and finds it quite pleasing indeed. 

“Does Lan Zhan want to get me pregnant?”

Lan Zhan’s blush reaches his cheeks, this time, but he meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he nods.

A warm thrill settles in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s belly, banked embers, and he grins. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, we’ll have to talk about this even more. But not this time, okay?”

“Mn. I want Wei Ying to see a physician first. Xiongzhang was right—your body has been through much these past two years. A pregnancy is not worth sacrificing your health for.”

“I want to hug you,” Wei Wuxian announces, because really that is the only valid response to his husband’s doting, and opens his arms. Lan Zhan gathers him close, even though he’s soaked and slippery, and Wei Wuxian hums happily. “Lan Zhan is so good to me. I’m very grateful.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, unhappily. 

“What? It wasn’t ‘thank you!’ Really, too picky.”

Lan Zhan draws back to fetch a towel, rubbing Wei Wuxian’s hair dry before ushering him out of the tub. He stands, swaying slightly (Lan Zhan really relaxed him too much!) as his husband towels him off. After that, he curls naked in their bed and watches as Lan Zhan begins to drain the bathwater.

“I want to wash Lan Zhan.”

“Mn. After dinner.”

“Okay.” Speaking of dinner! “I’m hungry.”

“Xiongzhang will return soon. I will ask him to bring food, as well as the infertility draught.”

When Lan Xichen returns later that afternoon, however, he is already bearing a tray of food because he is the most perfect and omniscient brother-in-law to have ever existed. Wei Wuxian thanks him profusely, then ducks inside with his bounty and begins setting the table. Lan Zhan carries an armful of texts in after him, setting them beside the bed before going to speak with his brother again. When he returns, several minutes later, Wei Wuxian gestures eagerly for him to sit. They eat together, and Wei Wuxian fills the space between them with cheerful chatter—it’s easy to be cheerful, on a full belly. 

It does not, unfortunately, stay easy.

Wei Wuxian spends most of the night cramping and feeling particularly sulky about it, although he does his best not to toss and turn the way he wants to. Lan Zhan doesn’t need to be jarred awake just to suffer with him—although, Wei Wuxian is sure, he would be more than happy to do so. The night feels longer than usual, thick and stifling, and Wei Wuxian’s thoughts press angrily against the insides of his skull.

The thing is, these feelings aren’t his. This heat, and all its pains and pleasures, aren’t his. The low ache in his gut belongs to borrowed parts. The dry stickiness of his eyes, when he stares too long at the ceiling, is because someone else’s brain forgot to blink. The scar on his elbow is there because, many years ago, a stranger tripped and damaged their skin. 

On nights like these he misses—painfully, dearly—his old self, his sturdy shoulders and coarse hair and calloused hands. This body, though he is grateful for it, has never felt like home. Sometimes he thinks it never will. Sometimes he thinks he’ll never want it to, because it isn’t, because he is an imposter, because he doesn’t belong in here. 

It’s always been easier to draw a line between his mind and his body; to persist in the belief that they are entirely separate things. Wei Wuxian is not a body. Wei Wuxian is a devil reincarnated and shoved into this stranger’s brain, into this pale chest, into these slender fingers and soft hands. He can move them, but they are not his. It’s like playing puppeteer. 

But now it’s getting harder and harder to ignore this body, and he’s forced to admit that it influences his mind as much as his mind influences it. The two are horrifyingly intertwined. The more his focus is drawn to this body—not his body, not his, never his—the more uncomfortable he feels. He wants to crawl out of his own skin. 

He crawls out of bed, instead, and reaches for the stack of texts nearby. 

He and Lan Zhan had browsed them all earlier (“Look Lan Zhan, pictures!”) and that had helped to soothe Wei Wuxian’s nerves, some. He looks earnestly to the texts now, hoping they will do the same again. He reads quickly, turning the pages by lamplight: the biology of it fascinates him. He’s spent ruts with Lan Zhan before, and knows how best to ease him through it, but heats are an entirely new subject. There hadn’t been many omegas in Jiang Clan, when he’d been growing up, and his family had been composed entirely of alphas—save, of course, for Wei Wuxian himself, and for Madam Yu. 

Maybe he could have asked her for advice, if she had survived. (As if. She probably would have beaten him for having the audacity to even ask.)

Grimacing, Wei Wuxian turns his eyes back to the texts: these will do just fine. Besides, he has Lan Xichen, at least! If he has any questions, he can ask them tomorrow, provided Lan Zhan is in an agreeable state of mind. Lan Zhan would never forbid Wei Wuxian from leaving the Jingshi, or forbid his brother from entering, but Wei Wuxian knows that both things make him uncomfortable right now—and he doesn’t want to cause Lan Zhan discomfort any more than Lan Zhan wants to cause him discomfort.

So Wei Wuxian will stay here, with his mate, until his heat passes. He will give Lan Zhan no cause to worry or chafe against instinct. Lan Zhan would stamp his instincts down, of course, if Wei Wuxian but asked him to; Wei Wuxian will not ask. He does not want to. Wei Wuxian loves everything about Lan Zhan, including his instincts—growly, bossy Lan Zhan is so much fun! 

At the same time, however, he also understands that today’s growly, bossy Lan Zhan was not fun. Today’s growly, bossy Lan Zhan was only there because Wei Wuxian’s poor alpha was stressed and confused and lurching headfirst into a rut. Growly, bossy Lan Zhan was also not fun for several other people—namely, Lan Sizhui and Lan Xichen—and Wei Wuxian knows that Lan Zhan feels awful about that, too. He hates that he put his mate into that position, however unknowingly. 

(Lan Zhan would insist, here—Wei Wuxian knows he would—that Wei Wuxian is not responsible for Lan Zhan’s actions. Lan Zhan is capable of controlling himself, alpha or not, rut or not, stress or not. If he failed to, it is his own issue. Wei Wuxian agrees, but that is hardly the point. Just because Lan Zhan can fight tooth and nail against instinct doesn’t mean he should have to. Wei Wuxian certainly doesn’t want to be the one to force him to; he has more respect for his mate than that. If he’s going to snap Lan Zhan’s self-control, he’s going to do it because they both want him to, and because there is no chance of failure to make Lan Zhan feel bad, and also probably because they’re about to fuck and it’s very sexy.)

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian startles, then looks sheepishly back at the bed. “Ah, Lan Zhan. Did I wake you?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan sits up, frowning at the empty space beside him. “You cannot sleep?”

Wei Wuxian looks guiltily at the texts in his hands, rubbing a thumb over the characters at the edge. “No. I just keep thinking. But I’ll be alright—no need to worry about this husband, gege!”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about?” Lan Zhan repeats patiently. 

“Just…” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Everything, I guess. It’s a big change. There’s a lot to think.”

“Mn.”

“I was trying to be quiet.” Wei Wuxian clambers back into the bed, pressing Lan Zhan down and sprawling out on top of him. He folds his arms over Lan Zhan’s chest and rests his chin on them. The smell of a rut has begun to curl against Lan Zhan’s skin, thick and heady. It makes Wei Wuxian’s stomach warm. “Mm. Lan Zhan smells nice.”

“I did not know what your heats smelled like.” Lan Zhan looks at him, shamefaced. “I could not tell why you smelled different this morning.”

“Huh? Of course not! How would you know?”

“I will not let it slip my notice again.” Lan Zhan leans forward, nosing determinedly against Wei Wuxian’s throat—and really, Wei Wuxian has no choice but to scent him, after that. Lan Zhan submits to it readily, stroking Wei Wuxian’s back as Wei Wuxian nuzzles across his face and hair. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Wei Wuxian murmurs once he’s finished, rubbing his nose against Lan Zhan’s. “Lan Zhan needs his sleep.”

“I do not mind staying awake with Wei Ying.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll keep you up all night very soon,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning salaciously. “You’d better rest while I let you.”

Lan Zhan’s mouth quirks with amusement. “Shameless.”

“You like it.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan squeezes his waist, gently. “I am worried about you.”

“Lan Zhaaaan, I already told you you don’t need to worry.”

“If it does not offend Wei Ying—” Lan Zhan starts, and Wei Wuxian groans. 

“When you say that you already know it’s going to offend me.”

“If it does not offend Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeats, because he is a relentless bastard, “then I will admit that I do not particularly trust him to tell me when I should and should not worry about his wellbeing.”

Which—okay, fair, but—“Lan Zhan, too cruel! You can’t even trust your own husband?”

“Not where his wellbeing is concerned,” Lan Zhan says seriously, and Wei Wuxian buries his face against Lan Zhan’s neck. Guilt and fondness tangle with each other in his chest—a writhing, confusing pulp of emotion. “I am sorry. I know that you would like me to be able to.”

“But it’s my own fault you don’t, I know, I know,” Wei Wuxian says, wry.

“I do not mean to guilt you,” Lan Zhan says, petting his back.

“No, I know. It’s okay. I made some bad choices, and the consequences are on me. If that means I lose Lan Zhan’s trust, then…” Wei Wuxian’s mouth pinches, but he does understand. He does. 

“I trust Wei Ying in all other areas,” Lan Zhan offers. “There is no one on this earth I trust more.”

Wei Wuxian tips his head up to kiss Lan Zhan’s chin. “The same goes for me, you know. I trust Lan Zhan in all things.”

“Mn. Then, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, settling a hand at the small of his back, “will you not trust me enough to tell me what is bothering you?”

Ah! How cunning! How manipulative! Wei Wuxian walked right into that perfectly-set trap!

“Who taught you to be so sneaky?” Wei Wuxian asks, side-eyeing his mate. 

“I would not know,” Lan Zhan says, the picture of perfect innocence. 

Wei Wuxian rolls off of Lan Zhan, staring up at their ceiling; he can’t be looking at Lan Zhan for this. “It’s really nothing,” he says, again, because he is morally obligated to not give a shit about himself. Then, because Lan Zhan is asking, and Wei Wuxian wasn’t lying when he said he trusted Lan Zhan in all things, he adds, “I just keep thinking about this body.”

Lan Zhan makes a soft, considering sound. “You said earlier that it did not feel like yours.”

“Yeah. I mean, nothing new there, but it’s—more intense, now, I guess. I can’t stop thinking about it. I never would have experienced this in my old body. It’s not all bad, it’s just...” He hesitates, then continues in a softer voice, “It’s just that I miss my old body. I feel very strange in this one.”

Lan Zhan reaches over, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. He’s silent, for a moment, before he says, “I will not pretend to understand. I cannot comprehend what it is like to live a life in two separate bodies. I know that it is not pleasant for you, and I regret that, but—Wei Ying, I am so grateful for this body. You are here. You are alive.”

“I’m grateful too. Mo Xuanyu sacrificed so much to give this to me—it’s really a gift, Lan Zhan, to be here with you.” Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand. “Ah, don’t mind me anymore. I’ll get used to it. Everything new feels strange for a while.”

Lan Zhan lifts their hands and presses a lingering kiss to the back of Wei Wuxian’s, warm and dry. “What can I do to make it easier for you?”

The word nothing jumps easily to Wei Wuxian’s tongue, but he bites it back. Lan Zhan is asking. Lan Zhan wants to know. Lan Zhan wants to help, and Wei Wuxian is very tired of not letting him. Where has that ever gotten him, anyway? Dead and ripped away from a perfectly good body, that’s where! Wei Wuxian really doesn’t want to have to acclimate to a third body because he didn’t ask for help when he needed it, so he says, “Distract me?”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan rolls over and gently uses Wei Wuxian’s hair to tip his head back, mouthing beneath his jaw. His other hand slides beneath Wei Wuxian’s robes to scrape nails across his stomach, leaving trails of gooseflesh in his wake. “Wei Ying does not smell ready for that yet.” 

“Lan Zhan!! There is more than one way to distract a man!”

Lan Zhan huffs in amusement, then settles heavily against him and drapes an arm across Wei Wuxian’s stomach. “How shall I distract you, then?”

“Mm…” Wei Wuxian wiggles in thought. “Tell me a story!”

“What story shall I tell you?”

“Oh, oh—tell me the one about those two magnificent heroes who killed the Xuanwu, okay? Make sure you get all the romantic parts.”

Lan Zhan dutifully recites the story, making sure to emphasize all the romantic parts quite nicely, while Wei Wuxian giggles and thinks about grumpy baby Lan Zhan with stupid baby Wei Wuxian. Of course, he still can’t sleep with a story like that, so Lan Zhan switches to something less exciting once he’s finished: a story about his rabbits. Wei Wuxian yawns widely and nestles close, letting his eyes drift shut. 

He’s almost— almost— on the verge of sleep when the cramps return.

Wei Wuxian grimaces, curling up on his side, which immediately draws Lan Zhan’s full attention. “Wei Ying?”

So, as far as Wei Wuxian is concerned, he has two options. He can wave Lan Zhan off, drop back into bad habits and say nothing, nothing. Alternatively, he can lean into theatrics and wail about his misery until Lan Zhan consents to comfort him. This, he imagines, would not take very long at all. Lan Zhan is a sucker. 

In the end, after everything they’ve already talked about, it’s an easy decision. 

“Lan Zhaaan,” Wei Wuxian whines, reaching out to hug Lan Zhan’s arm, “it hurts!”

“What hurts?” Lan Zhan asks, a small frown crossing his face. 

Wei Wuxian shoves Lan Zhan’s hand down, settling it on top of his abdomen.

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says softly. “I see. You are cramping?”

“It huuuurts!” Wei Wuxian wails, again, for emphasis.

Lan Zhan mns sympathetically, then flattens his hand across Wei Wuxian’s abdomen and presses down. Pressure cuts through the pain there, and Wei Wuxian blinks in surprise. Something must show on his face, because Lan Zhan quickly draws his hand back. “Is it worse?”

“Ah, no, do that again!” Wei Wuxian seizes his hand and tugs it back into place. Lan Zhan’s fingers curl into his robes. “Again, Lan Zhan, harder.”

“Whatever Wei Ying wishes,” Lan Zhan murmurs, tucking his face against Wei Wuxian’s throat before pushing his hand down again. He kneads the soft flesh of Wei Wuxian’s lower belly, his fingers strong and careful where they press in. Wei Wuxian sighs, leaning his head against Lan Zhan’s as the pain slowly abates. 

“Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, “you really are the best, I hope you know.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan sounds satisfied. His breath puffs, warm and soft, against Wei Wuxian’s skin. “I love Wei Ying, I hope you know.”

“He’s a funny guy tonight, is he?” A crooked smile crosses Wei Wuxian’s face, and he snuggles one arm beneath Lan Zhan’s head. “Ah, Lan Zhan. You know I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Lan Zhan murmurs. Wei Wuxian is half-asleep, already, but he still hears Lan Zhan’s soft voice as he drifts off. “I love you most.”

In his dreams, he’s smiling.

Notes:

oh gosh oh heck this is my first fic for the mdsz fandom and i hope you had as much fun reading it as i did writing it!! there’s a second chapter in the works with significantly more smut, so keep your eyes peeled for that! also feel free to chat at me in the comments or at my tumblr, parsnipit! bc i love getting to talk to new people (and it certainly encourages me to write more)!

Chapter 2

Notes:

warnings: nsfw, self-loathing, one (1) reference to wwx’s suicide at nightless city, references to + discussions of kink, discussions of (but no actual) dubcon, dom/sub undertones, allusions to previous starvation

and an important note for this chapter !! most of wangxian’s kink negotiation(s) have taken prior to this, but rest assured they have discussed all the kink in this chapter (and the next) before. they also both have safewords/phrases established even though wwx’s is the only one explicitly mentioned here. safe sane and consensual!! (/^▽^)/

Wei Wuxian wakes late the next morning; Lan Zhan is already meditating beside his guqin, frosted in morning light. Wei Wuxian simply looks at him, for a moment—because really, Lan Zhan is the most handsome man in the world, and Wei Wuxian would be very remiss to not ogle him at any given opportunity. 

Even more fun than ogling him, however, is pestering him. 

Wei Wuxian rolls out of bed, dragging the blankets along with him as he goes to sit in front of his husband. He bumps their knees together. “Lan Zhan. Hey, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan tips his head to acknowledge Wei Wuxian.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian scoots even closer. “I’m bored. Won’t you entertain me?”

Lan Zhan opens his eyes to look expectantly at Wei Wuxian, which can only mean one thing: he’s waiting for Wei Wuxian to bother him. Well, Wei Wuxian can do that! He scoots himself straight into Lan Zhan’s lap, bumping his forehead against his husband’s chin. He picks up Lan Zhan’s arms, wrapping them around his waist and burrowing close, and Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate—he immediately melts into Wei Wuxian, tightening his grip and brushing his lips over Wei Wuxian’s temple. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs, running one hand up and down Wei Wuxian’s back.

“Good morning,” Wei Wuxian says. He pets Lan Zhan’s hair where it lies in a silky black curtain across his back. This close, he can smell Lan Zhan’s soaps. They do nothing to mask the scent of his burgeoning rut, or the scent of his arousal. “Mm, Lan Zhan, are you this worked up already?”

Lan Zhan looks at him, abashed. “You need not worry about it. If Wei Ying is not ready yet—”

“Aiya, just because I’m not ready to be fucked doesn’t mean I’m not ready to make you feel good.” Wei Wuxian grins, looping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. “What do you say, Er-gege? Do you want me to use my hands? Or should I suck you off?”

The tips of Lan Zhan’s ears are just so cute when they’re pink like that. Wei Wuxian wants to bite them, and so he does. Lan Zhan hisses quietly at the sting, his hands coming to settle on Wei Wuxian’s hips. When he speaks again, his voice is rough. “Wei Ying.”

“Mm? What’ll it be?” Wei Wuxian murmurs, nosing along the shell of Lan Zhan’s ear before biting again. He worries the cartilage between his teeth and savors the way Lan Zhan’s fingers clench on him. “What does my Lan Er-gege want?”

“Whatever Wei Ying wants,” comes the immediate reply, which is not the appropriate response to that question and Lan Zhan knows it!

Wei Wuxian bites down a little harder on Lan Zhan’s ear in reprimand, then soothes over the skin with his tongue. “You know that isn’t an actual answer.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, although he looks particularly sulky about it. Ah, he’s lucky he’s so cute or Wei Wuxian wouldn’t let him get away with that pouting! “I want Wei Ying.”

“That’s a little better, gege.” Wei Wuxian sits back in Lan Zhan’s lap, grinding against the hard length he finds there. Lan Zhan’s nostrils flare, his pupils swelling wide in his irises. Fuck, but he’s gorgeous. “Hands or mouth? You pick.”

Lan Zhan reaches up, dragging his thumb along Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip. 

“Mouth?” Wei Wuxian grins, then leans forward—first to kiss the pad of Lan Zhan’s thumb, and then to draw it into his mouth. Lan Zhan watches him, rapt. His breath hitches when Wei Wuxian scrapes his teeth over the skin and then latches on to suckle. “Good choice.”

Lan Zhan reaches out, cradling Wei Wuxain’s face and guiding him into a heated kiss. Their teeth clatter together, briefly, before Lan Zhan tilts his head and deepens the angle. He bites the swell of Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue. Wei Wuxian squirms in excitement, curling his hands into Lan Zhan’s robes and dropping his jaw to coax Lan Zhan’s tongue further into his mouth. Breath passes between them, hot and humid.

Really, Wei Wuxian could kiss Lan Zhan for hours and hours—it’s so much fun!—but Lan Zhan is impatient at the best of times, and rut certainly won’t have made it better. Already, his legs are flexing beneath Wei Wuxian’s weight as though he’s thinking about shifting their positions. Wei Wuxian leans back before his mate can think too hard about it. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he says, jutting his lower lip out in a pout as his hands fall to Lan Zhan’s chest, “why are you wearing so many clothes?”

“I had to speak with Xiongzhang this morning.” Lan Zhan gently bats Wei Wuxian’s hands out of the way, beginning to unfasten his nine billion layers of robes. 

Wei Wuxian arches his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“He brought breakfast,” Lan Zhan explains, “and the infertility draught.”

“Oh! What a good big brother he is! We’ll have to do something nice for him, Lan Zhan, after.”

“Mn. But if it is all the same to Wei Ying—” Lan Zhan looks at him, pupils blown and eyes syrup-dark. “I would rather not talk about Xiongzhang right now.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and lurches forward to kiss him again, quick and messy. “No,” he says, grinning against Lan Zhan’s mouth, “I suppose you wouldn’t. Sit back for me, Er-gege?”

Lan Zhan shrugs out of his robes with Wei Wuxian’s help—help, of course, in the loosest sense of the term; he mostly just pushes the cloth out of the way and paws Lan Zhan’s chest while Lan Zhan looks at him in fond exasperation. But who can blame him, really? It’s a very nice chest! Once Lan Zhan has pushed his robes into his lap, he leans back on his hands to let Wei Wuxian do as he pleases.

What pleases Wei Wuxian is, first of all, to kiss him again for being such a good boy. Then he moves his mouth to the crook of Lan Zhan’s jaw—the glands there are bright with his scent, all arousal and musky desire. It stirs something in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s own belly, and if the soft spaces between his legs weren’t so goddamn sore he’s sure he’d be getting aroused himself. As it is, however, he can indulge himself in Lan Zhan’s pleasure without a rush; he doubts he’ll be able to say the same tomorrow. 

“Lan Zhan, mark me,” he says, bumping his head needily against Lan Zhan’s chin. Lan Zhan obeys, dragging his scent over Wei Wuxian’s hair and face with a satisfied huff of noise. “Good! Now I smell like Lan Er-gege. Now everyone will know I belong to him.”

Lan Zhan’s breath catches, ever-so-slightly, and Wei Wuxian grins.

“Ah, he likes that, my Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian nuzzles his scent across Lan Zhan in return, comforting his mate with the simple act of it—reaffirming that Wei Wuxian belongs here, with him, to him. “He likes knowing I’m his.”

“Mine,” Lan Zhan agrees, bringing a hand up to settle on Wei Wuxian’s hip. 

“Ah-ah-ah.” Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue, scolding, and gently nudges Lan Zhan’s hand away. “I thought it was my turn, hm? Stay still, stay just like that for me.”

Lan Zhan obediently sets his hand back on the floor, leaning onto his palms as Wei Wuxian trails kisses down the long arch of his throat. He slows briefly to touch the Wen brand tucked beneath Lan Zhan’s collarbone; the skin there is rough and raised, the spirals of a sun blurred by time and healing. Wei Wuxian kisses it, once, reverently.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “have I told you that I love you?”

“Many times.”

“Not enough.” Wei Wuxian’s fingers run along the lines of Lan Zhan’s ribs, the flat planes of his stomach. “I love you.”

Solemnly, Lan Zhan replies, “As I love Wei Ying.”

It’s a thrill to hear, every time, and Wei Wuxian thinks it always will be. He nuzzles Lan Zhan’s sternum, inhales the warm familiar skin-scent of him, before shifting to kiss one dusky nipple. Lan Zhan’s stomach immediately tenses beneath his hands—an anticipatory ripple of muscle—and Wei Wuxian can’t help but grin. So sensitive, his mate! 

He tells Lan Zhan as much, lips brushing skin as he murmurs, “You’re so sensitive here. Does it feel good? It does, right?”

It definitely does—Lan Zhan doesn’t even need to tell him so, because the sharp hiss of breath Wei Wuxian hears when he latches onto his husband is answer enough. He suckles readily, flicking his tongue across the nipple until it begins to stiffen. He switches to the other side, then, unwilling to leave any part of Lan Zhan neglected. When he glances up, Lan Zhan’s eyes are heavy on him. His shoulders are a hard, drawn line. 

“What’s the matter?” Wei Wuxian asks innocently, cocking his head. “You look so tense, gege.”

Lan Zhan’s lips thin, and his arms flex as he drives the heels of his hand into the floor. Wei Wuxian has no doubt that he wants to touch in return—it isn’t often that he’s passive in their lovemaking, after all. Maybe they should do this more often. Practice makes perfect, and Lan Zhan is such a pretty picture when he’s frustrated. 

Lan Zhan rolls his hips up, pointedly. 

“Impatient, impatient,” Wei Wuxian scolds, although he does shuffle off of Lan Zhan’s lap so his mate can unfold his legs. He seizes the chance to divest Lan Zhan of the rest of his robes, while they’re at it, and shoves them all aside in a wad of white fabric. The corner of Lan Zhan’s eye twitches when he notices that, and Wei Wuxian laughs. “Oh, come on! We’ll fold them later. Unless you really want to stop for that, I mean. Hm. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe we ought to...”

“Wei Ying.”

“No, no, you’re obviously right, my mistake.” Wei Wuxian draws himself up, the picture of responsibility. “His Excellency must have pristine robes, and they must be very expensive, too. It doesn’t do to let them sit on the floor like that. Let this humble servant fold them for you.”

Lan Zhan’s nostrils flare. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian reaches for the robes, again, makes a show of shaking the first one out. “It won’t take me but ten minutes, you just wait and see. There’s only—what is this? Six? Only six, let me just—”

Lan Zhan growls at him, and Wei Wuxian shoots him an impish grin. 

“Oh? Was there something else you wanted from me, Lan Er-gege?” 

A muscle in Lan Zhan’s jaw clenches, and Wei Wuxian takes pity on his poor, sexually-frustrated husband. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’ll pick the robes up right after.”

His husband’s sense of propriety thus soothed, Wei Wuxian scoots himself into the vee of Lan Zhan’s legs, nudging his thighs aside to make room there. He props his elbow on the floor, rests his chin in his hand, and admires the view for a moment. Lan Zhan is already hard, thanks to his rut—and thanks, undoubtedly, to Wei Wuxian squirming around in his lap for the better part of the last ten minutes. His cock is flushed, curving gently towards his stomach and wet at the tip. Wei Wuxian licks his lips.

“Lan Zhan is so pretty,” he says, with a contented sigh. 

Lan Zhan’s eyes cut away from his in an unusual display of bashfulness.

Wei Wuxian nuzzles Lan Zhan’s thigh before nibbling, gently, at the sensitive crease where his leg joins his groin. Lan Zhan’s leg twitches, and Wei Wuxian admires the way his stomach jumps with breath. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, watch me. You’re supposed to watch me.”

Lan Zhan’s fingers curl against the floor, but his eyes swing back to Wei Wuxian’s without hesitation.

“Good boy. Pretty gege.” Wei Wuxian smiles at him, kisses the soft skin along his inner thighs. Lan Zhan’s breath wavers, but he never looks away. “You know I like it when Lan Zhan looks at me. I always want his eyes on me.”

“I will not look away again,” Lan Zhan says, with more gravity than Wei Wuxian thinks is really warranted—but the assurance warms him through anyway. “Wei Ying. I love looking at you.”

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to blush, now, his cheeks warm as he hides his face against Lan Zhan’s thigh. He can’t stop smiling. Ah, silly husband, too good! “You’re so nice, Lan Zhan. I think I’ll suck you off now.”

“Please,” Lan Zhan says, gravely.

Wei Wuxian grins and sits up, reaching out to grip the base of Lan Zhan’s cock. His knot has already begun to swell, albeit only slightly—Wei Wuxian can feel the bump of it against his palm, warm and hard. He bends to kiss the tip of Lan Zhan’s cock, then licks the precum from his lips. Beside him, Lan Zhan’s thighs tense, but he is a well-trained gentleman: he will not move until Wei Wuxian tells him to.

“Lan Zhan tastes so nice,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling Lan Zhan’s foreskin down and away from the head of his cock so he can lap freely at it. Nice is, of course, a rather biased opinion. Lan Zhan tastes like salt and musk, neither of which are particularly pleasant on their own, but this is Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian very much likes the taste of Lan Zhan. “Mm, and he smells good here, too.”

Another biased opinion—Lan Zhan’s scent is strong and dark, nestled here between his legs, all arousal and sweat and alpha. Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he would like such a strong scent on anyone else, but on Lan Zhan? On Lan Zhan, he loves it. He is more-or-less conditioned to start drooling at the faintest whiff of it. 

His mouth is watering even now, so he puts it to good use and slicks Lan Zhan’s cock with his saliva. He coats it in long, broad licks that have Lan Zhan white-knuckled and breathing hard with the effort of keeping himself still. Special attention is paid to his knot—Wei Wuxian nibbles there, very gently, before sucking hard against the taut skin. He flicks his eyes up to watch Lan Zhan’s reaction: he bites his lower lip, squeezes his eyes shut, and tucks his chin as he fights not to make a sound.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines, ducking down to mouth at his balls. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, don’t be like that. I want to hear you. Won’t you make noise for me? Please? Please, gege? You sound so good.”

Lan Zhan really can’t deny him anything, and they both know it. Warily, Lan Zhan opens his eyes again, and he releases the grip of his teeth on his own lip. When Wei Wuxian sucks his knot, again, his lips part around a soft groan. 

Thrilled, Wei Wuxian beams at him. “Good! Good boy, very good, Lan Zhan. I like that very much.”

If Lan Zhan’s ears were any pinker, Wei Wuxian thinks, they would be incandescent.

Wei Wuxian works his way back up to the head of Lan Zhan’s cock, then takes it into his mouth. He lets it rest heavy on his tongue for a moment, savoring its weight as he breathes around it. Careful to keep his teeth covered by his lips, he begins a slow rhythm. He uses one hand to stroke the base of Lan Zhan’s cock where his mouth doesn’t reach, toying with his knot, as his other hand comes to rest on Lan Zhan’s hip. He traces aimless patterns with his nails against the delicate skin there: hearts and stars and one sloppy ài. 

Lan Zhan is still quiet, but as Wei Wuxian gradually increases the speed of his rhythm, a few soft moans are torn from him. Wei Wuxian sucks hard at the head of Lan Zhan’s cock each time he hears one—a reward. Sometimes, if he teases long enough, he can even get Lan Zhan to whine. Today, though, he thinks he should probably avoid too much teasing. Lan Zhan is in rut, after all, and he’s bound to be uncomfortable if he can’t come soon!

With that in mind, Wei Wuxian takes his husband into the back of his throat. He has to pause there, a moment, to remember how to breathe properly. Lan Zhan’s head falls back, his chest heaving and his fingers scraping desperately against the floorboards. His hair tumbles in a black curtain down his back, pooling on the floor below. His chest is flushed pink. Gods, he’s beautiful.

“Wei Ying,” he rasps. One hand reaches for Wei Wuxian before hesitating. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian reaches out, taking Lan Zhan’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He squeezes, once, before resuming his rhythm. He bobs his head, breathing shallowly around Lan Zhan and pressing his tongue to the underside of Lan Zhan’s cock. It doesn’t take much more than that—not with Lan Zhan in rut—and a few moments later his mate squeezes his hand desperately. He hums in encouragement, and then swallows around Lan Zhan’s cock until it spills for him. 

Wei Wuxian swallows what he can, but really, Lan Zhan comes so much when he’s like this! He has to draw back, gasping, to let Lan Zhan finish spurting onto his own stomach. As he does, he makes sure to keep a tight grip around Lan Zhan’s rapidly-swelling knot. Lan Zhan makes a wounded noise, curling forward until his head bumps Wei Wuxian’s. His hips jerk in little, aborted thrusts and his hands grip tightly at Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. 

“Mm, there you go, Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, leaning up to kiss him. Lan Zhan kisses back frantically, all teeth and hot breath. He tears his mouth away only to pull Wei Wuxian closer, brushing lips across his neck in a silent question. Wei Wuxian’s breath leaves him in a rush as he gasps, “Yes. Yes, it’s okay, go ahead. I want you to.”

Lan Zhan bites hard—viciously hard. It’s not quite enough to break skin, but it’s certainly enough to have Wei Wuxian gasping and writhing. A low growl rumbles through Lan Zhan’s chest, and Wei Wuxian sags against him with a soft whine. He stays close to Lan Zhan, one hand still tight around his knot and the other braced against his chest, until Lan Zhan’s breathing slows. Gingerly, Lan Zhan unlatches his teeth from Wei Wuxian’s neck. He licks the bitemark there softly, apologetically, until Wei Wuxian reaches up to pet his silly head.

“It’s good,” he says, kissing the corner of Lan Zhan’s eye. “It felt good.”

Lan Zhan looks up at him with something bordering on reverence—something that makes Wei Wuxian’s stomach squirm in all kinds of ways—and Wei Wuxian has to duck his head. 

“Wei Ying.”

“Uh-huh.” 

That certainly is his name Lan Zhan is saying in that tone—the one that should really be reserved for stumbling upon ancient deities or witnessing particularly beautiful sunsets, not for Wei Wuxian, of all people.

“Lan Zhan, ha ha, we should really have thought this through a little better. You’re making a big mess. I don’t want to let go yet, but we don’t have any cloth—unless I can borrow one of your robes? It’s white, it’ll blend right in, it—”

Lan Zhan’s hands come up, cupping his cheeks and looking at him as though he has not just suggested using the Chief Cultivator’s very expensive robes to clean cum. Wei Wuxian’s mouth snaps shut. He knows that look. It excites him. It frightens him. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeats, cradling the name in his mouth like something precious. “You did very well. You made me feel good.”

Wei Wuxian wails and buries his face against Lan Zhan’s neck, nipping roughly in reprimand. How cruel, how cunning, to compliment him while he’s trapped here! He can’t release Lan Zhan quite yet—not while his knot is still up. He knows how distressing it is for an alpha to be separated from their mate at this time, and he wouldn’t ever wish that on Lan Zhan. Still, it means he has to sit here and listen to this—this blasphemy—!

“Lan Zhan,” he cries, “you can’t say things like that when I can’t get away, it’s cheating!”

“I do not want you to get away,” Lan Zhan says, contentedly. “I want you to hear me.”

“You brute! You bully! You would treat your husband this way?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan nods, petting Wei Wuxian’s hair. “Wei Ying.”

“No! No, don’t you dare, don’t you—”

“You are very good.” Lan Zhan tangles his fingers into Wei Wuxian’s hair, pulling him forward to kiss him. “Exceptionally good.”

Wei Wuxian is going to die, here, with one hand wrapped around his husband’s cock and the other batting his chest weakly in punishment for this horrendous crime. His face is on fire. Something warm and terrifying is dancing in his stomach as he garbles a string of mostly-incoherent protests into Lan Zhan’s throat. 

“You should not be uncomfortable. You did well,” Lan Zhan explains, stroking his shoulders consolingly. “It is my duty and privilege to let you know that.”

Okay, and the thing is, Wei Wuxian knows how Lan Zhan feels about it. This is another one of those fun topics they had to sit down and have a long, grown-up conversation about before they got married. See, Wei Wuxian has a thing about people being nice to him. It’s a weird thing. Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes it makes him want to throw himself screaming off the nearest cliff (again) because there’s no fucking way he can deserve it. Sometimes—most times—it’s a disorienting blend of both. 

They’ve compromised.

Lan Zhan gets to say nice things to Wei Wuxian whenever he wants, but only if they’re true (Lan Zhan insists that all good things are true where Wei Wuxian is concerned, however, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how much help this point actually is) and only until Wei Wuxian tells him that’s enough—those exact words, because Wei Wuxian is prone to wailing protests he doesn’t necessarily mean. 

Today, Wei Wuxian does not tell him that’s enough.

Today, Wei Wuxian thunks his forehead against Lan Zhan’s collarbone and mutters, “You’re a bad, bad man.”

Lan Zhan hums, gently pushing Wei Wuxian’s hair out of his face. “If that is what it takes.”

“Whatever happened to ‘lying is forbidden in Cloud Recesses?’ Huh?”

Lan Zhan tenses. Ah. A step too far, then. 

“It is not a lie.” Lan Zhan tries to nudge Wei Wuxian back, but Wei Wuxian keeps his cheek stubbornly plastered to his husband’s chest. “Wei Ying.”

“I know—Lan Zhan, I know how you feel, forget I said that. You don’t lie. Those are your true feelings.” As difficult as it is is to believe, that is what Lan Zhan thinks of him. Whether Wei Wuxian agrees or not is an entirely different matter, and one he would very much like not to discuss right now. 

“Mm. They are.” Lan Zhan bends to kiss the top of his head. “I love Wei Ying, and he is good in all ways.”

Wei Wuxian leans back and quirks an eyebrow. “All ways? What about cooking, or cleaning, or following the rules?”

“Most ways,” Lan Zhan allows, a faint smile on his face. Then he leans forward, nuzzling Wei Wuxian’s throat. His breath ghosts across the mark he left there—the mark that will, surely, bruise before nightfall. “Although Wei Ying can be very good at following rules provided he has the proper motivation.”

“Lan Zhan, how scandalous!” Wei Wuxian rears back, looking at Lan Zhan with all the affront he can muster. “That you should dare insinuate that I have ever followed a single rule in my life, for any reason!”

Lan Zhan huffs against his skin, amused. “I recall a few particular instances.”

Wei Wuxian’s cheeks heat, because so does he, actually.

“Well—well! Perhaps you’ll have to remind me!”

When Lan Zhan smiles, Wei Wuxian can feel the smooth press of teeth against his flesh. “Perhaps I will.”

“I do have such a poor memory, Er-gege.”

“You do.”

“We’ll fix that later,” Wei Wuxian promises, leaning back. He twists his hand around Lan Zhan’s knot, and Lan Zhan jerks his hips as more cum dribbles from the head of his cock. “We still have to finish this first.”

Because that’s the thing about alphas, isn’t it? They cum for-fucking-ever when they knot, and Lan Zhan is no exception. It takes more than ten minutes for him to finally soften in Wei Wuxian’s hand, and as soon as he does he’s nosing along Wei Wuxian’s throat and making little interested noises again. Insatiable! 

Wei Wuxian laughs and releases him, snagging a washcloth to clean the cum from Lan Zhan’s stomach and thighs, as well as his own sticky hands. Then, as promised, he folds up most of Lan Zhan’s robes and hands the innermost set back to him. They eat the breakfast Lan Xichen brought earlier, and Lan Zhan brings out a small glass bottle to show him.

“The infertility draught,” he explains, allowing Wei Wuxian to grab and examine it. The draught inside is thick and green, and it smells sharply of bitter medicinal herbs. 

Gross, Wei Wuxian decides at once, and then pushes the bottle back to his husband. “I’m just glad it’s you and not me.”

Stone-faced, Lan Zhan knocks the draught back in two deft swallows. Wei Wuxian grimaces for him. 

“How long did your brother say it would take to work?” Wei Wuxian asks once Lan Zhan has finished rinsing his mouth with tea. 

“A few hours. The effects should last for the next two weeks.”

Wei Wuxian nods. That should be more than enough time. 

Once they’ve finished breakfast, Lan Zhan gathers their dishes. “I will return these to the servants later,” he says, “and fetch us lunch when I do. Will you be alright here?”

“Lan Zhan, is that your way of asking me to stay put?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian grins—at least his mate is honest. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll stay in the Jingshi until this is done. Er, well, most of the time. I may have to wander the garden a few times. I’ll perish without sunlight, you know, I’m like a plant!”

“A rose,” Lan Zhan agrees. 

“Eh? Lan Zhan, you’ve thought about it?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan looks him up and down. “Romantic. Smells good. Pretty in red. Painful if handled improperly.”

Wei Wuxian covers his face and wails, just a little bit. His husband really is too much!!

When Lan Zhan leaves, that afternoon, Wei Wuxian wallows around in dissatisfaction. He’s uncomfortable with Lan Zhan’s absence, and with his own general state of cramping-overheated-hungry, of course, but this runs deeper than that. Something isn’t quite right. He gets up, scowling at the Jingshi with his hands on his hips. He paces. He drinks water. He rubs the cramps out of his abdomen and the stiffness out of his back. He sticks his head out of the window for sunshine because he really wasn’t kidding about being a plant. 

“Lan Zhan,” he announces, when Lan Zhan returns with lunch. “I feel strange.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan sets down two bowls of rice, a plate of vegetables, and a basket of steamed buns. Wei Wuxian’s stomach rumbles, and it’s enough to distract him from his discomfort, however momentarily. “How so?”

Wei Wuxian drums his fingers on the table as Lan Zhan divvies out the vegetables. “I don’t know. Something isn’t right.”

Lan Zhan looks sharply at him.

“No, no, it’s nothing dangerous,” Wei Wuxian says, grabbing a steamed bun and tearing off a mouthful. “It’s not even physical, I think. It’s just that something is missing and I can’t figure out what.”

“Do you wish to speak to Xiongzhang about it?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. He doesn’t want to see anyone now, really—anyone but Lan Zhan, anyway. “No. Ah, but maybe it would help…”

“I can ask him for you when I go to get dinner.”

“Maybe.” Wei Wuxian frowns at the far wall. “Maybe.”

Wei Wuxian’s dissatisfaction remains throughout the afternoon. He tries to distract himself from it—he reads, he doodles, he fiddles with his talismans and plays ditties on Chenqing. He jerks Lan Zhan off, and his husband’s pleasure is enough to distract him, but even that is only temporary. He’s pacing again within the hour. His scent grows sour with anxiety, strong enough for even himself to smell.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, his nostrils flaring. “Come and lay down.”

“Ah, I don’t think I can.”

“Try.”

Wei Wuxian tries. He lays down on the bed, next to Lan Zhan, and digs his fingers into the sheets. His skin itches. He tosses and turns, plagued by the sensation that something needs to change.

“Maybe you should fuck me?”

Lan Zhan blinks at him in surprise. 

“I mean, maybe that’s it?” Wei Wuxian asks, throwing his hands up. “That’s the whole point, right? That’s the only thing I can think of.”

Lan Zhan nuzzles along his jaw, then reaches down to slide a hand between his legs. Wei Wuxian winces and he pulls back. “You are not ready for that yet,” Lan Zhan decides.

“Okay, well, get me ready then.”

“I do not think—”

“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan rolls over, pinning Wei Wuxian to the bed. His weight is good—solid, comforting, secure. Wei Wuxian relaxes minutely. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says sternly. “I will not hurt you.”

“You don’t have a problem with it when I ask you any other time,” Wei Wuxian mutters mutinously. It’s not strictly untrue—Wei Wuxian is an unabashed masochist, and Lan Zhan is unabashedly indulgent—but Lan Zhan never hurts him severely. He certainly never does anything Wei Wuxian isn’t full-heartedly into, and this…

This might fall into that category. 

But maybe it’s something they need to do, right? If Wei Wuxian can just push through his soreness, and his general discomfort with the idea of being fucked right now, maybe it will start to feel normal. Maybe he’ll start to feel normal. He’s an omega now, right? So he should like getting fucked when he’s in heat. 

“I’m not saying it won’t be unpleasant at first,” Wei Wuxian says, “but maybe once we start it’ll be okay.”

“You don’t want to.”

“You can’t tell me what I do and don’t want,” Wei Wuxian huffs, crossing his arms. The effect is mostly ruined by Lan Zhan being on top of his chest, so he ends up kind of just embracing his mate. Whatever. It’s the thought that counts.

“You smell of fear,” Lan Zhan says severely, pulling back. “I will not do something to you that you do not want.”

“It’s not fear, I’m just—I just don’t feel good. I want it to stop. This is so dumb.” Wei Wuxian is well aware that he’s whining like a child, thank you very much. He doesn’t plan on stopping. “Lan Zhaaaan, make it stop!”

Lan Zhan draws up at once. “I will go and speak with Xiongzhang.”

Wei Wuxian can’t bring himself to protest—not if it will make this weird agitation stop. He wallows around once Lan Zhan is gone, rubbing his scent into the sheets, and that—

Huh. 

Huh. 

Wei Wuxian pauses, bringing a pillow to his chest and smothering it in his scent. He sets it down. Frowns. Moves it two inches to the left, which is much better, and then reaches for another pillow to repeat the process. No wonder he feels weird—this bed is arranged so poorly! How in the world are he and Lan Zhan supposed to be comfortable when it’s such a mess? How has he ever even slept here?

Hastily, Wei Wuxian tears the blankets and sheets off of the bed and takes them outside to knock off the dust and the many, many long hairs he and Lan Zhan shed. He brings them back inside and starts to smooth them out over the mattress, then stops. That’s stupid. Why would he do that? He bunches them against the corner, instead, and rearranges the pillows inside of them. Better. That’s better. That’s obviously much more comfortable. 

He bunches himself inside of the blankets, just to test it out, and then rolls himself leisurely against them to spread his scent. Clothes off? Clothes off. He strips himself and repeats the process, luxuriating in the rub of the sheets against his bare skin. It still isn’t right, but it’s an improvement, and he’s delighted to tell Lan Zhan so when he returns.

“Lan Zhan!” he says, beaming, as the Jingshi doors slide open and Lan Zhan steps inside with a basket in hand. “Look!”

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says. “You figured it out.”

“Yeah! The way we had the bed set up was so stupid—what were we thinking? What is anyone thinking? Why would you want your sheets all flat like that? This is much better. We should do it like this all the time. Why don’t we just make the mattress round?”

Lan Zhan sets the basket down and steps closer, examining this new arrangement. “It is a very nice nest,” he agrees, which is nice of him, but also—what?

“What?’

“It is very nice.”

“No, you said—nest?”

“You are nesting. Xiongzhang says it is perfectly normal for omegas at this stage of pre-heat.”

“Oh. Oh!” Wei Wuxian could smack himself. He’d completely forgotten that nesting was a thing omegas did; he’s sure he heard about it, once upon a time, but it’s been a long time since he’s spoken of such things with others. He’s certainly never seen a nest himself. The texts Lan Xichen brought him had not mentioned such things—they had been more focused on the, ah, biological aspects of a heat. “Lan Zhan, I’ve made a nest!”

Lan Zhan’s mouth quirks up, a hint of a smile. “You have.”

“You like it?” Wei Wuxian can’t help but feel hopefully, painfully needy when he asks. He asks anyway.

“I like it very much. That is such a nice arrangement of pillows. I did not know we had so many.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, bounding out of the nest. “I found more in the closet. But it’s not done yet! I have to borrow your robes.”

Lan Zhan sheds his robes at once, handing them over, and Wei Wuxian folds them into the nest along with several sets of his own. He squirms around to cover them in his scent, humming happily. He adds in a handful of hair ribbons, and eyes Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon longingly—but that will have to wait, he supposes, until Lan Zhan stops going to and fro. He’d hate to make his husband venture into public without it. Even he’s not that shameless! 

“What did you bring?” Wei Wuxian asks, clawing his way through their trunks for other things to add. He’d like to have more from his family, but that’s—

Well. That’s not going to happen.

“Dinner, and food for later.”

“For later?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan nods, beginning to unpack the basket. “I will not want to leave you for long when your heat begins, nor will I want anyone approaching the Jingshi to bring us meals. Xiongzhang put together some nonperishable foods for us to eat then, as well as foods kept well by talismans.”

“Oh, Lan Zhan, that’s great! What a good idea.”

“I will still bring us dinner, each night. You need fresh food.”

“You know I’m not picky.” For all Wei Wuxian complains about the bland food in Cloud Recesses, he will eat just about anything. He has eaten much worse. But he is not going to think about that right now, because it makes him feel shaky and ill. 

“I know,” Lan Zhan says, simply, “but I am.”

“You are not. Don’t lie.”

“I am very picky where my mate is concerned.”

Wei Wuxian takes several deep breaths to keep himself from imploding. Sometimes it still seems impossible, how much Lan Zhan cares. “Okay,” he says, clearing his throat. “Okay, whatever you want.”

Lan Zhan makes a quiet, satisfied noise and sits before the table. He watches as Wei Wuxian supplements the nest with a few more robes, a pair of his favorite books, and blank talisman paper. His mouth purses when Wei Wuxian adds Suibian to the mix, but he does not complain—and besides, Wei Wuxian places her on the far side, where she won’t get rolled over. She makes him feel safer. He’d like to have Chenqing, too, but she’s more breakable than Suibian (and she’d probably be a lot angrier if she was broken, too; resentful little thing). 

Then a very important thought occurs to him—“Hey, we can clean all this, right, Lan Zhan?” —and he lunges for his talisman paper. The spell for waterproofing is simple enough, and a faint shimmer settles over the nest when Wei Wuxian plasters the new talisman to the bedframe. He tucks himself into the nest one more time, just to make sure it’s right, and sighs in relief. The anxious dissatisfaction in his chest finally dissolves. 

“Better?” Lan Zhan asks, and Wei Wuxian nods earnestly. “Good. It is very beautiful. May I lay down with you?”

“Lan Zhan! Yes!”

Lan Zhan lowers himself into the nest, careful not to disturb the pillows, and Wei Wuxian flops down on top of him. Perfect. Lan Zhan pets his hair, smoothing it gently down his back, as Wei Wuxian listens to the low drum of his heart. He’s so warm. He’s so content. He yawns widely enough to bring tears to his eyes, then shoves his nose into Lan Zhan’s chest and sighs. 

“You should sleep,” Lan Zhan murmurs, digging his fingers in to massage Wei Wuxian’s scalp. Dirty tactics! “You did not rest well last night.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Wei Wuxian says, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I want Lan Zhan.”

“I will be here when you wake. Dinner has warming talismans. There is no rush.”

“I missed you,” he says, which is slightly incoherent, except that sleeping feels like being dead and Wei Wuxian has already spent so much time being dead. He’s missed out on so much of Lan Zhan. It’s hard enough to sleep at night, let alone to nap. What a waste of precious time. “I don’t wanna.”

“Okay,” Lan Zhan whispers, his voice a low rumble in his chest. Wei Wuxian rubs his cheek over Lan Zhan’s sternum just to feel it. “Rest here a few minutes, then.”

Wei Wuxian can do that. He lets himself go limp and heavy against Lan Zhan, curling his fingers gently into his mate’s warm hair and breathing in time with him. Lan Zhan’s breaths are slow and deep and soothing. The fabric of his robes is smooth and cool against Wei Wuxian’s overheated skin. Their legs tangle. Lan Zhan scratches, just right, behind his ears. He stretches up into Lan Zhan’s hands until Lan Zhan coaxes him to relax again, guiding him back down with a firm hand between his shoulders.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, just for a few seconds. 

When he opens them again, it’s dark outside. 

Wei Wuxian would be offended—how dare Lan Zhan let him sleep so long!—but he feels too heavy and warm and content for such an emotion. He makes a small, muffled noise and shifts. Lan Zhan hushes him softly, one big hand coming to rest on top of his head. He settles and lets himself lay there, in a sleepy daze, for several more minutes. 

Then his stomach rumbles, and he groans.

“Lan Zhan, I’m so hungry.”

Lan Zhan sits up, bundling Wei Wuxian into his lap and rocking him gently. This does nothing to quell Wei Wuxian’s sleepiness or his hunger, but he enjoys it very much nevertheless. “Then we will eat,” Lan Zhan says, squeezing Wei Wuxian gently before nudging him onto his feet. Wei Wuxian tugs on a loose under-robe from the nest—one of Lan Zhan’s, white and flowy and too big—before stumbling to the table and sitting down. 

They eat quietly—mostly because Wei Wuxian is yawning around every mouthful—and gather their dishes together. Wei Wuxian uses the restroom, then strongly considers dragging himself back to bed; Lan Zhan, however, is watching him with a question in his eyes. 

“What is it?” Wei Wuxian asks, sitting before him again. He rubs his eyes. “Lan Zhan?”

“There are things I would like to discuss before your heat begins.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian yawns again. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything you do not want me to do?”

“If there is, Lan Zhan, I’ll let you know in the moment. You know me. I’m down for pretty much anything.”

“That is what worries me,” Lan Zhan admits. It’s not the first time he’s admitted such a thing. He had worried, when they first engaged in this relationship, that Wei Wuxian would let him do anything he wanted because Wei Wuxian was under the impression that he owed Lan Zhan everything. 

Wei Wuxian is still pretty sure he owes Lan Zhan everything, but he knows how much the idea bothers his mate. 

“If you are in heat, then I do not know that you will be able to think clearly,” Lan Zhan continues. “You may well let me do anything, even if you don’t truly enjoy it. I think it would be better to establish boundaries now, while we are both still thinking clearly.”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean.” This is a conversation Wei Wuxian needs to be much more awake for. He reaches for another cup of tea. “But you already know what I like and what I don’t like. Just don’t spring anything new on me this time around, how about that?”

“That is reasonable. But what if you dislike something now that you usually like?”

“Then I’ll tell you that’s enough.”

“What if you do not?”

“Lan Zhan, I—” Wei Wuxian falters. “I don’t know how to comfort you. The heat is going to change how I think. Maybe I won’t tell you if I dislike something. Maybe I won’t dislike anything at all. I really don’t know. But I think—Lan Zhan, I think if it’s you, I’ll feel safe no matter what. I’ll want it no matter what. Besides, if I ever get really scared, you’ll smell it and you can stop.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes clear, some, at this reminder. “Mn.”

“And what about you?” Wei Wuxian prods. “I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable just to please me.”

“I would do anything for Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian smiles wryly and fires Lan Zhan’s words back at him: “That’s what worries me.”

“Ah.” Lan Zhan pauses. “I see.”

“Smart boy. If you don’t want to do something that I ask you to, Lan Zhan, don’t. If you want to stop, stop. I might be in heat, but I’m not going to die if you don’t meet my every whim. Hell, if you don’t want to fuck me at all—”

“An impossibility.”

“—then that would be fine,” Wei Wuxian persists, stubbornly ignoring his husband. “It won’t kill me. It would hurt me much more to know I’d forced you into something you didn’t want.”

“You will not,” Lan Zhan says confidently. “I always want to fuck Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian rests his face in his hands and practices deep breathing for a long, long time. He can feel Lan Zhan’s smug amusement from here.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, finally, with the vaguest hint of plaintivity in his tone. It would be imperceptible if Wei Wuxian hadn’t spent years learning the rhythms of this voice. “If we are done talking, and if you are not too tired...”

“You’re horny again, aren’t you?”

Lan Zhan shifts, and he has the nerve to look guilty about it. That simply won’t do! 

“C’mere.” Wei Wuxian ushers him closer, taking his face and kissing him softly. “Don’t feel bad. It’s normal, and I kind of love it. Let me help you out?”

Lan Zhan nods quickly, and lets Wei Wuxian arrange them: Wei Wuxian leaning back against the bedframe, legs parted so Lan Zhan can settle between them. Lan Zhan’s back nestles against Wei Wuxian’s chest, and Wei Wuxian seizes the opportunity to pepper his ears with kisses. Lan Zhan squirms, and Wei Wuxian catches a flash of his smile. 

“Ah, Er-gege, I love you,” Wei Wuxian says, sweeping Lan Zhan’s hair aside so he can kiss the back of his neck—so he can kiss the white, smooth scar of their mating mark. “I love you like this. I love you every way.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers move down Lan Zhan’s chest, deftly undoing the clasps and ties of his robes. He parts them in the front, then trails a hand down the warm curve of Lan Zhan’s stomach. A smattering of small, dark hairs begins beneath his navel and thickens on its way down. Wei Wuxian traces the path reverently, the curls warm and wiry against his palm. Lan Zhan’s cock is half-hard where it lays against his thigh, and it jerks when Wei Wuxian brushes his knuckles over it. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, because it’s still true and Lan Zhan deserves to hear it all the time. Lan Zhan tips his head back, against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, and Wei Wuxian takes the invitation for what it is: he litters Lan Zhan’s neck with dry kisses and gentle lovebites. He pauses to take the lobe of Lan Zhan’s ear between his teeth, worrying it gently, and feels Lan Zhan’s breath hitch. “Lan Er-gege, my Lan Er-gege, my Lan Zhan, you’re so beautiful. I could write poetry about you.”

Actually, there’s an idea.

“Wait, Lan Zhan, I really could,” he says, nipping the scent glands below Lan Zhan’s jaw mischievously. “Do you think I should? I mean, I’m not a poet, but I could give it a shot. Would you like that? It’s surely no Wangxian, but you deserve a poem. You deserve lots of poems. A whole book. Maybe I could sell it, we could make money, use it to buy more sex toys—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan pleads—whether he’s pleading for Wei Wuxian’s touch or for mercy from his spiel remains uncertain. Maybe both. Probably both. 

Wei Wuxian laughs, tugging Lan Zhan’s hair until he turns his head and then kissing him silly. “Right, right! Forgive me, Hanguang-jun, I’ll pitch the idea to you later.”

He reaches down, wrapping his hand firmly around Lan Zhan’s cock and giving it several cursory strokes. Lan Zhan pushes into him with a quiet groan, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers grasp for Wei Wuxian’s robe. Wei Wuxian pauses to lick his palm, then returns to his job with single-minded intent. He doesn’t want to keep Lan Zhan up too late—it must already be far past his bedtime—so he’ll have to hurry this, just a little bit. 

Gods, but it’s hard not to tease.

He uses his other hand to toy with Lan Zhan’s nipples, with his balls, with the soft strip of skin just behind his balls. He rubs a knuckle in, against that skin, to hear Lan Zhan gasp. Lan Zhan pushes back against Wei Wuxian’s knuckles, then curls his hips up again to thrust his cock between Wei Wuxian’s fingers, clearly torn between which sensation he wants to chase more. Wei Wuxian doesn’t help him choose: he provides each sensation steadily, and even stretches his pinky to press against the pucker of Lan Zhan’s hole. 

Lan Zhan really does groan, then, and Wei Wuxian looks mournfully towards their bedside table, where they keep their toys and oil—it’s about an arm’s length out of reach, and he’s not willing to jar Lan Zhan into moving right now.

“No oil,” he says, apologetically, “or I’d finger you.”

“Ah—that’s fine,” Lan Zhan says, a touch breathlessly. “This is fine.”

“Just fine, huh?”

“Good, it is very good—Wei Ying, please—”

“Begging already? Er-gege, how long have you wanted this?”

Lan Zhan decidedly does not answer him, his ears darkening. Wei Wuxian senses a mystery!

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian scolds, stilling his hand. Lan Zhan tries to push his hips up again. In response, Wei Wuxian tightens his hand at the base of Lan Zhan’s cock, and his mate settles himself with a huff. “Er-gege, tell me.”

“Since we lay down,” Lan Zhan mutters mulishly—mutters! mulishly!—and ducks his head.

“When we lay down? In the nest? Lan Zhan, that was hours ago! You should have woken me.”

“If I woke you every time I wanted to fuck you,” Lan Zhan says crisply, “you would never sleep.”

“You have got to stop saying things like that.”

“You have got,” Lan Zhan retorts, monotone, like the petty bastard he is, “to start touching me again.”

Wei Wuxian really can’t think up an argument for that—especially not if his husband has been waiting for literal hours to get off while in rut. He speeds the movement of his hand on Lan Zhan’s cock, and Lan Zhan’s chest rumbles around a pleased groan. He only slows once he senses that Lan Zhan is close, rubbing his fingers over the small bump of Lan Zhan’s knot in leisurely circles, because he has something to say.

“Still, you know you can wake me if you want something.”

“Now?” Lan Zhan asks in disbelief.

You’re going to do this now, of all times? Wei Wuxian mentally translates.

“Yes.”

Because obviously he’s going to win as long as he has his hand wrapped around his husband’s cock. Duh. He didn’t learn dirty debate tactics for nothing. He would be remiss not to use the advantage while he has it!

“I want to take care of Lan Zhan as much as he wants to take care of me,” Wei Wuxian continues, kissing the slope of Lan Zhan’s shoulder—kissing the pale slice of a scar—and stroking fingertips softly below the head of his cock. “I know you can’t wake me every time, but you’re in rut and you need it. I don’t want it to be painful for you. Or, if you didn’t want to wake me, you could’ve gotten yourself off. You didn’t need to wait so long.”

“I didn’t—ah—” Lan Zhan’s hips jerk, and Wei Wuxian croons gently. He’s so cute when he’s desperate. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Hm, I was on top of you, wasn’t I? Well, you could have just jerked off there. I waterproofed the nest already.”

Lan Zhan has the gall to look scandalized, as though they haven’t done much filthier things. “You were asleep.”

Wei Wuxian twists his hand deftly and savors the way Lan Zhan gasps and arches into him. “Your point?”

“If you had woken up, and I was…”

“Mm.” Wei Wuxian suckles the side of Lan Zhan’s throat, his eyes hooded. “I would have liked it, Er-gege. Would’ve loved it. Watching you take care of yourself, ah, Lan Zhan—you know how much I love it.”

Lan Zhan’s jaw clenches as his breathing grows more staggered.

“Don’t suffer unnecessarily,” Wei Wuxian reminds him, his voice low and his teeth scraping vulnerable skin, “or I’ll be mad at you.”

“It was—” Lan Zhan cuts off as Wei Wuxian bites, once, a swift warning that he summarily ignores. “—hardly suffering.”

Wei Wuxian bites him again, harder, a soft growl rattling to life in his throat. “You can’t tell me that it was pleasant. Lan Zhan, rut is supposed to be pleasant. I don’t care if you can wait. You shouldn’t have to. You know you don’t have to deny yourself with me! I want it to be good for you. So you won’t make it harder on yourself than it has to be, will you, Er-gege?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice falters, then, and Wei Wuxian pauses to glance at him. His cheeks are pink—his throat, his chest—and he’s breathing hard. Looks like it’s time for a check-in! As much as Wei Wuxian loves teasing his mate, he never wants to push too hard or too far. That wouldn’t be any fun for either one of them.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian replies, softening his voice. “You’re okay?”

Lan Zhan nods rapidly.

“Do you need me to slow down?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head with equal rapidity. 

“Okay.” Wei Wuxian presses one more soft kiss to his cheek, then chills his voice again (he wasn’t the Yiling Patriarch for nothing!). “In that case, I expect you to tend to yourself better from now on, Er-gege. You’re not allowed to deny yourself like that with me and you know it.”

“Wei Ying—”

“It isn’t up for debate,” Wei Wuxian says darkly, narrowing his eyes. “So you had better be about to say Wei Ying, yes.”

Lan Zhan’s hips cant up again, desperate, and Wei Wuxian sighs and strokes him to completion before he can answer. Lan Zhan comes with a startled cry, and Wei Wuxian bites the back of his neck as he does—his teeth settle into perfect place atop his mating mark, and Lan Zhan’s legs quiver. As before, Wei Wuxian keeps a firm grip on his knot and lets Lan Zhan arch against him while he comes. He seeks Wei Wuxian’s eyes, his gaze dark and heady with pleasure—but there’s confusion in his eyes, too. He doesn’t fully understand the game they’re playing yet.

Wei Wuxian delights in enlightening him.

“Ah, don’t look at me like that. We’re hardly done with our conversation.” Wei Wuxian nuzzles his hair. Lan Zhan’s bedtime, he thinks, is well and truly fucked. But it was an admirable intention while it lasted! “You should know better than most how merciless the Yiling Patriarch can be.”

Lan Zhan’s breath catches, and he tilts his chin up to bare his throat—the sweetest little sign of submission. Wei Wuxian leans down kisses him, hot and possessive, bearing into him with all the hungry intent he feels. Lan Zhan lets him, muffling a surprised noise against his mouth. That’s fair, Wei Wuxian supposes. He, too, was under the impression that omegas were supposed to become more yielding during their heats, but—

But Wei Wuxian’s not in heat quite yet, is he?

That’ll teach Lan Zhan to underestimate him!

He kisses Lan Zhan until their mouths are sore, until Lan Zhan’s knot has gone down, until cum streaks Lan Zhan’s sides and his inner robe. That one is probably a lost cause, but at least it hasn’t gotten onto any of his outer robes. (Yet, anyway.) 

Wei Wuxian does not, however, release Lan Zhan’s cock. 

“Again,” he says, simply, and begins to stroke. Lan Zhan scrabbles at the floor with his fingers, his eyes widening. “I want you to come again, Er-gege. You probably need to. You really shouldn’t have waited so long.”

“Wei Ying!”

“You can, can’t you?” Wei Wuxian asks sweetly, mouthing the back of Lan Zhan’s neck. He pauses his ministrations only to allow Lan Zhan an answer—if he really doesn’t want to do this, then of course they won’t, but Wei Wuxian hardly thinks that’s going to be the case. “My alpha will need to come a lot more than this once I’m in heat.”

Lan Zhan swears—Lan Zhan swears!—which is delightful in and of itself, but then he goes and starts nodding. “Yes,” he breathes, “yes, I can, Wei Ying, I will, for you.”

Ah, ah, it’s so hard to stay pretend-mad when Lan Zhan talks so sweetly!

“Good boy,” Wei Wuxian says, rubbing his palm over the head of Lan Zhan’s cock. Lan Zhan bites his lower lip bloodless until Wei Wuxian kisses his mouth open again, their teeth clashing. “Good boy, good good boy, I knew you could. And we can both agree, can’t we, that you shouldn’t wait if you need to come? Not unless I tell you to.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan gasps into his mouth. “Yes, yes.”

“Very good,” Wei Wuxian purrs, tugging Lan Zhan’s cock faster. He pauses to run his palm through the cum on Lan Zhan’s stomach, and Lan Zhan moans when his grip returns slicker and warmer. 

It takes longer to coax Lan Zhan to the edge, again—of course it does. The poor thing might be an alpha in rut, but Wei Wuxian really allowed him no time to recover at all. Still, against Wei Wuxian’s dedication and determination, Lan Zhan doesn’t stand a chance. He’s hard within minutes, leaking precum again and panting with exertion. A slick sheen of sweat coats his skin, bright in the moonlight. Wei Wuxian presses his mouth to Lan Zhan’s shoulder to taste the salt of it. 

When Lan Zhan comes, again, it’s with a breathless gasp of Wei Wuxian’s name. Wei Wuxian strokes him through it until he’s whining—fuck, what a pretty noise that is—and twitching away from the touch, oversensitive. He shudders when Wei Wuxian wraps a hand around his knot, his thighs trembling. 

“Perfect,” Wei Wuxian murmurs in between soft, sweet kisses. “So perfect, Er-gege, I knew you could. Did that feel good? Do you feel good, sweetheart?”

Lan Zhan nods earnestly, pressing his cheek to Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and sucking in a sharp breath as more cum spills from his cock.

“Shh, it’s okay, there we go. So good, Lan Zhan, good boy.”

“Wei Ying—Wei Ying—”

“Hm? What is it? Tell me what you need.”

Lan Zhan fumbles to grab Wei Wuxian’s free hand, tugging his arm into place around him. Wei Wuxian could die for love of this man—that’s just how cute he is. Dying would be a real tragedy, though (he’d miss out on all this!) so instead he coos and tightens his grip to hug his husband tightly against him. Lan Zhan relaxes with a slow breath, his eyes falling shut. 

When Lan Zhan’s knot goes down, Wei Wuxian releases him and goes to get a clean washcloth. He wipes the cooling sweat and cum from Lan Zhan’s skin, gentle around his overstimulated cock, and helps him into a clean robe. He pushes a cup of tea into his hands, gesturing for him to drink all of it. Then he shepherds Lan Zhan into bed and twines around him, scenting him for any sign of distress or unhappiness; he finds neither. Lan Zhan smells content and sleepy and well-loved.

“You’re okay?” he murmurs, just to be sure. 

Lan Zhan shifts in his arms, settling more firmly against Wei Wuxian’s side. “Mn.”

“Did you like it?”

“Very much.”

“That’s good.” Wei Wuxian yawns, nuzzling his temple. “I liked it too.”

“I was surprised.”

“Yeah?”

“I did not think you would, at this stage of your heat—”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Ah, I’m as surprised as you. It just felt right in the moment, you know? You didn’t mind?”

“I never mind your spontaneity.” Lan Zhan pauses, then adds, “I rarely mind your spontaneity. On some night hunts it has gotten us into trouble.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” Wei Wuxian chirps. He slings one leg over Lan Zhan’s, burrowing as close as he can and adjusting one of the pillows behind Lan Zhan’s head. “Go to sleep now, okay, gege? It’s past your bedtime.”

Lan Zhan obediently lets his eyes close, and before long his breathing has smoothed into the rhythm of sleep. Wei Wuxian never falls asleep quite as readily—he stays there, his cheek smooshed to Lan Zhan’s shoulder, for several minutes. He pets Lan Zhan’s chest absently, his eyes open as he studies the darkness around him. He had been tired, earlier, but now there’s energy itching below his skin. He wants to—he wants to—

He wants to do something. 

But whatever it is, he supposes, will have to wait until dawn.

Chapter 3

Notes:

warnings: nsfw, lotsa kink wow (including bdsm elements such as painplay, spanking, bondage, and power exchange), references to past starvation, body dysphoria, self-loathing + insecurity

some notes on wei wuxian and gender!!: wei wuxian is, in this fic, very non-binary. he’s comfortable identifying as a man and a beta, and usually does so since it’s what he’s used to, but he wouldn’t have a problem identifying as another gender either. his body dysphoria here is caused less by the fact that he’s an omega and more by the fact that he’s in a Completely New Body and it’s very strange for him and the omega-esque things that are happening to him make him remember that he’s not in his original body. but it does get easier for him, eventually!! he has time to adjust, and even though he’ll always miss his old body he realizes that he can be happy in this one, too—and that being an omega is actually pretty fun!

“I’m not hungry,” Wei Wuxian announces over breakfast the next morning. This is something Wei Wuxian has never announced in front of Lan Zhan, ever, and so naturally his husband looks at him as though he has grown a second head. “I don’t want this.”

Lan Zhan stares at him, some more.

“What? Really, it looks good, but I’ll save it for later.” Wei Wuxian stirs his congee, then wrinkles his nose. There’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s distinctly unappealing at the moment—which is weird, because he’s eaten much worse things with much more enthusiasm. Surely he should appreciate this. “I won’t waste it, don’t worry.”

“I am not worried about that. There is plenty to spare.” Lan Zhan frowns, setting his own spoon down. “You should try to eat something.”

“But I’m not hungry.”

“I understand, but you will need the energy.”

“Oho, will I?” Wei Wuxian scoots around the table to kneel at Lan Zhan’s side, grinning, because Lan Zhan is much more interesting than breakfast. “Does Er-gege really have such rigorous activities planned for today?”

“Eat your breakfast.”

“Lan Zhaaaan,” Wei Wuxian whines, gripping Lan Zhan’s forearm and jostling him when he reaches for his spoon again. “I don’t want to. I want to play with you.”

“After breakfast.”

“Lan Zhaaaan—”

Lan Zhan reaches out, looping an arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist and dragging him into his lap. Wei Wuxian has no complaints to make. He laughs his delight, making himself comfortable atop his mate and burrowing against Lan Zhan’s broad chest. As he settles there, he rubs his cheek against Lan Zhan’s shoulder while he dips his spoon into his bowl of congee. He brings the spoon closer, and then—

“Wei Ying, eat.”

Wei Wuxian stares, cross-eyed, at the spoon held in front of his lips. He opens his mouth—whether to complain or to exclaim at Lan Zhan’s shamelessness, he does not know, but he is a fool either way. Lan Zhan pops the spoon inside. He bites down automatically, teeth clicking against the bronze, and resigns himself to swallowing this mouthful if only so he doesn’t spit up all over himself because that would be gross.

Wei Wuxian is fully prepared to give Lan Zhan a talking-to when he draws the spoon back, but then Lan Zhan looks at him with warm approval and says, “Good, Wei Ying,” and—well. 

Well. 

Lan Zhan takes a bite for himself, and Wei Wuxian watches his jaw work. He reaches up, pressing his fingers to the strongest muscle on the side of Lan Zhan’s jaw, and Lan Zhan tolerates this with quiet warmth. When he has finished his own mouthful, he fills the spoon again and brings it back to Wei Wuxian’s lips. 

“Open,” he murmurs, and Wei Wuxian opens. Lan Zhan slides the spoon into his mouth, and Wei Wuxian licks it clean; the congee is bland but warm, filling. He really wasn’t kidding about not being hungry, but if he can get Lan Zhan to keep looking at him this way…

“Lan Zhan, more.” Wei Wuxian paws Lan Zhan’s chest until he looks down. “I want more.”

Lan Zhan reaches for Wei Wuxian’s own bowl, but Wei Wuxian stops him.

“No, I want Lan Zhan’s.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t argue. If anything, he looks rather pleased with himself for getting Wei Wuxian to eat anything in the first place. He brings a spoonful of his own congee to Wei Wuxian’s mouth again, and together they finish his bowl. Wei Wuxian draws his own bowl closer, then, and scoops up a bite for Lan Zhan. 

“Lan Zhan’s turn!” he says, determined, and taps the spoon of spicy congee to Lan Zhan’s lips.

Lan Zhan does not look surprised by this turn of events, and if he hesitates it’s only for a split second before he opens his mouth and allows Wei Wuxian to feed him. As he chews, he blinks more often, but that’s the only indicator of his discomfort with the spice—his tolerance really has grown tremendously since they were teenagers! 

“Now Wei Ying,” he murmurs, once he’s finished his bite, and Wei Wuxian thinks that’s a fair trade-off. He gulps down a spoonful for himself and then eagerly fills another for Lan Zhan. 

When both bowls have been scraped clean, Lan Zhan gathers the dishes and Wei Wuxian rearranges the nest—it had turned into something of a mess, given all his tossing and turning last night. Sleep had been difficult. On the bright side, he’d woken to Lan Zhan rutting against his leg, so that had been a very good start to the morning. 

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian bounces on the bed to get his mate’s attention. “Lan Zhan, you said you’d play with me!”

Lan Zhan lowers his head and growls, very agreeably, before prowling in Wei Wuxian’s direction. Wei Wuxian squeals and bolts. For all that Lan Zhan was criminally deprived of play as a child, he’s gotten very good at it in recent years—Wei Wuxian has made sure he’s gotten very good at it! He wants his husband to have fun whenever possible, and this is one of many ways to loosen him up. 

Unfortunately, there’s only so much room in the Jingshi. 

Wei Wuxian darts around the folding screen, narrowly avoiding Lan Zhan’s grasp. He leaps over the bathtub, placing it between himself and his husband. They both regard each other, bright-eyed and curious, until Lan Zhan splinters their stalemate. He circles lithely around the tub, and Wei Wuxian scrambles to stay ahead of him—around and around and around they go, while Wei Wuxian giggles breathlessly and shrieks each time Lan Zhan’s fingers brush the back of his robes. 

He has to make a break for it, eventually—he can only run so many circles before he gets dizzy!—and when he does, he lunges past the folding screen and onto their table. He narrowly avoids kicking their stacked dishes, and Lan Zhan snaps his teeth in warning. The sound sends a thrill down Wei Wuxian’s spine. Something warm begins to simmer low in his belly.

“Lan Zhan, wait!” Wei Wuxian holds a hand out, and Lan Zhan draws up short and looks expectantly at him. “You have to let me catch my breath. This body is so weak and frail, you know. I’ll keel over if you aren’t careful!”

Lan Zhan knows full well that this is not true—this body may be weaker than Wei Wuxian’s last, but it’s hardly helpless—and he looks rather unimpressed with the ploy. He takes a step closer.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cries, with great affront. “Won’t the great Hanguang-jun have mercy on this helpless man? Truly, I am so pitiful, so very fragile; I am a delicate flower crumbling in the breeze!”

Lan Zhan steps to the side, this time, and Wei Wuxian turns to track his path around the table; Lan Zhan flashes him a show of teeth as soon as he does, so he squeaks and whips himself back around. 

“Lan Zhaaaaan,” he whines, as his mate circles behind him. The excitement of it—of the not knowing— rattles in his bones, and it takes every ounce of his (admittedly quite limited) self-control to keep from whirling around and watching Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan moves quietly once he’s out of sight, bare feet gentle on the floorboards and robes rustling softly. “Oh, oh, you’re frightening me! What are you planning, you fiend? What dastardly ideas have you come up with now?”

Wei Wuxian strains to hear Lan Zhan’s movements, but it’s a rather ineffective thing with his own voice bouncing off of the walls. How can he be quiet, though? He’s too worked-up!! His fingers twitch impatiently, and his nostrils flare. He can smell Lan Zhan’s excitement, too, and the heavy musk of his rut. It’s unfairly appealing. 

Then Lan Zhan’s hands grasp his hips, and he nearly jumps out of his own skin. 

“Don’t move,” Lan Zhan orders, when he begins to squirm.

“So bossy, Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian says, clucking his tongue, but he tries to hold himself still. It’s unaccountably difficult! Lan Zhan’s fingers curl into his hips, then trickle slowly up his sides. He whines and twitches away, his mouth tugging into a smile. “Ah—ah, no, that tickles!”

Lan Zhan makes a quiet, considering sound before reaching one hand around and settling it over his abdomen. His nascent golden core pulses slowly there, beneath Lan Zhan’s palm, a second heartbeat. Wei Wuxian covers his husband’s hand with his own—what parts of it he can cover, anyway. Who gave Lan Zhan the right to have such big hands?

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he says, a sudden burst of affection warming his voice. He takes a step back, intending to nestle himself against Lan Zhan’s chest, and—

And the table tips.

Yelping, Wei Wuxian slips backwards and flails his arms frantically for balance—he does not like the sensation of falling, no sir!!! His elbow crashes none-too-lightly against Lan Zhan’s jaw; despite this, Lan Zhan tightens his grip on his waist and hauls him away from the table before he can send both of them crashing to the ground, then sets him neatly on his feet before stepping back. When Wei Wuxian whirls around to look at him, he’s blinking in surprise. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cries, reaching up to pat Lan Zhan’s jaw. His heart thunders in his chest, still foolishly convinced that he only just avoided plummeting to his death (again). Anxiously, he says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, did it hurt? Are you okay? I didn’t break you, did I?”

“You are too small to break me,” Lan Zhan says mildly. This is clearly untrue—Wei Wuxian is small but very mighty!—and ordinarily, he’d be terribly insulted. As it is, he supposes he does owe Lan Zhan a jab in return. He lets it go.

“Either way, that is not going to leave a sexy bruise,” Wei Wuxian says mournfully. There’s a red mark on the side of Lan Zhan’s face, and Wei Wuxian cringes as he studies it. “Here, I’ll make a cooling talisman for you. Really, I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan.”

“No sorries,” Lan Zhan says, catching his hand before he can scramble to his talisman papers. “Wei Ying. You did not mean to.”

“Of course not! My poor Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian clucks his tongue and tugs his hand away, racing to sketch out a talisman in cinnabar. As soon as it’s done, he plasters it to the side of Lan Zhan’s face. Lan Zhan’s eyes twinkle with amusement, which is completely unwarranted! He’s been injured! Battered! Ambushed! Has he no self-preservation instinct? “Are you laughing at me? Really, Hanguang-jun!”

“It is funny.”

“It is not,” Wei Wuxian huffs, hands on his hips, even though he can kind of, maybe, start to see how it is. His traitorous mouth twitches into a smile. “It is not, quit laughing! You’re making me laugh, how dare you! I have assailed you, Lan Zhan, I have besieged your beautiful face; however will you recover from such an insidious blow?”

Lan Zhan catches him around the waist, yanking him forward. Wei Wuxian trips and braces himself against his husband’s broad chest. Gravely, Lan Zhan says, “Perhaps Wei Ying will have to kiss it better.”

“Ah! Of course, how right you are! Hanguang-jun is as wise as they say.” Wei Wuxian pushes up onto his toes, flipping the talisman out of the way so he can kiss Lan Zhan’s jaw. The skin is cool beneath his lips. “Muah! There. All better.”

“All better,” Lan Zhan agrees, turning to capture Wei Wuxian’s lips with his own. The talisman flutters in the side of Wei Wuxian’s vision, and he giggles into the welcoming warmth of Lan Zhan’s mouth. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he says, pulling back after several indulgent seconds. “Sit with the talisman for a few minutes.”

“Unnecessary.”

“You might be healed within the hour, but you can’t tell me that it doesn’t hurt now!”

“Barely a sting. I do not mind it.”

“The talisman will make you feel better.”

“Wei Ying makes me feel better. I want to play.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. It’s a rare thing, indeed, for Lan Zhan to admit that he wants to play—Wei Wuxian has to reward such honest behavior! “In a few minutes,” he says again, and Lan Zhan’s lips purse until he adds, “But I will kiss you the whole time we wait and I will not even laugh at you for having a talisman stuck to your face.”

Lan Zhan pauses to consider this. “Mn,” he decides.

“Good! Sit down, sit down, let me kiss you, you’re very sexy.”

Lan Zhan sits on the edge of the bed, and Wei Wuxian climbs into his lap and cradles his face and tries, very hard not to laugh at the talisman hanging off of his jaw. Mostly he succeeds. He leans down, kissing Lan Zhan chastely once, twice, before finally sealing their mouths together. Lan Zhan kisses back hungrily. His tongue touches the seam of Wei Wuxian’s lips, a brief hello, before it slips inside to run over the tips of his teeth. Wei Wuxian sucks it closer, tangling his fingers into Lan Zhan’s hair and humming happily.

They kiss, as promised, for several minutes. Wei Wuxian keeps one palm settled against Lan Zhan’s jaw, over the talisman, to make sure it doesn’t get too cold. He uses his other hand to hold Lan Zhan’s head, tugging his hair to change the angle of their kisses. He suckles Lan Zhan’s bottom lip and feels his breath quiver. Lan Zhan’s hands come to settle on his hips, squeezing gently, and he rocks into the grip. A low throb of pleasure pulses between his legs, and he squirms against his mate—what an exciting development! That hasn’t happened in days!

Lan Zhan must notice the change, because he moves his kisses to Wei Wuxian’s throat and jaw. His breath hitches as he tastes the skin there; his gaze, when it meets Wei Wuxian’s, is dark and heated. Wei Wuxian reaches up, rubbing his thumbs beneath those pretty, pretty eyes. His heart tumbles in his chest. How the hell did he ever get so lucky?

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice is gravel, rumbling in the pit of his chest. His pupils swallow the suns of his irises.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. He closes his eyes and breathes in the comfort of his mate’s scent. He indulges in the stillness, for a moment—and a moment only. Then he leans back and grins sharply. “Didn’t you want to play?”

Lan Zhan’s jaw clenches—so do his hands, hard on Wei Wuxian’s hips. 

“You’ll have to let me go if you want to play, Lan Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian reminds him, scooting back. Lan Zhan releases him slowly, and with obvious reluctance. Before he bolts, Wei Wuxian plucks the cooling talisman off and crumples it in his hand. “There! Now catch me if you can, hm?”

Lan Zhan really isn’t playing around, this time.

If Wei Wuxian was having a hard time avoiding his husband last time, it’s infinitely harder now. Lan Zhan’s legs are longer than his, and he has no trouble keeping up at a flat run. Wei Wuxian has to dart and weave and use obstacles to his advantage—but there are only so many obstacles in the Jingshi, and he’s already fallen off the table once! Lan Zhan snaps teeth when he makes to jump on the table again, too, and so Wei Wuxian wisely skirts around it.

In the end, he resorts to hiding: he crams himself under their bed. Lan Zhan skids to a stop beside the frame, and Wei Wuxian sees his hands curl into frustrated fits. Panting, he squeezes himself against the wall and curls up as tight as he can. Ha! Let Lan Zhan beat that! 

Then Lan Zhan kneels beside the bed, reaches under, and grabs his ankle. 

Wei Wuxian shrieks as he’s hauled out of his hiding space—rude, rude!—until Lan Zhan clamps a hand over his mouth, glaring. 

“Quiet.”

Wei Wuxian has never been quiet a day in his life. He licks Lan Zhan’s palm. 

“Silencing talismans in the bedside table,” he offers, muffled, but his husband is too smart to fall for that. He employs one of his main skills (ignoring Wei Wuxian) and leans forward, reaching for his wrists. As Lan Zhan’s body arches over his, Wei Wuxian brings his feet up and braces them against his mate’s hips. “Ah-ah-ah, you should know better.”

Wei Wuxian twists himself sharply to the side, using his legs to unbalance Lan Zhan and topple him over. It’s easy to do, since he’s got one hand on Wei Wuxian’s mouth and the other one reaching forward—he was practically begging to be thrown off, come on. He hits the ground with a huff of startled breath, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t waste time waiting for him to recover. He cackles and darts away, only stopping to gloat once he’s safely across the room.

“Take that, Hanguang-jun.” He blows a raspberry, then sticks his tongue out. “Defeated by the great Yiling Patriarch! What do you have to say for yourself? I say you’re getting too cocky!”

Lan Zhan picks himself up, shooting Wei Wuxian a dark and delightful glare. 

“Ha! You think you’re going to intimidate me now, after that loss?” Wei Wuxian runs a hand through his hair, preening under the attention. Loftily, he adds, “Hanguang-jun really isn’t as mighty as they say.”

Lan Zhan’s lips curl away from his teeth, and a frisson runs down Wei Wuxian’s spine. Something in his abdomen jolts—it isn’t quite a cramp, but it’s close, and it makes him gulp. How strange. He would like to not think about the weird things happening in his body right now, please and thanks. He’s too busy riding the high of this victory!

“Aha—Lan Zhan, you should know better than to underestimate your equal,” Wei Wuxian reminds him, tracking his husband’s movements carefully as he approaches. “Why don’t you just admit I’ve won, huh? There’s no shame in giving up! You’ve been bested, that’s all there is to it. I think—”

Lan Zhan lowers his head and growls through his teeth, eyes narrowing sharply.

Three things happen simultaneously:

Another not-quite-a-cramp twists in Wei Wuxian’s gut, making his breath catch and his eyes widen; slick floods from him, soaking into his trousers and damping his inner thighs; he whines and tips his chin up in instinctive submission.

His first rational thought, after Those Three Things, is what the actual fuck.

He and Lan Zhan both regard each other, equally startled. 

Now, Wei Wuxian has learned, over the years, that clear and open communication is the foundation for every relationship. To promote this, he decides to verbalize his very articulate thoughts. 

“What,” says Wei Wuxian, “the actual fuck.”

“Wei Ying, you are—” Lan Zhan actually cuts himself off, scenting the air. “Are you alright?”

“Yep. Peachy.” If it comes out a little squeakier than he would have preferred, then oh well!! He squeezes his legs together in a futile attempt to stem the flow of slick, his cheeks burning. Fuck. Fuck, what the fuck. He’s slicked before, of course—an omega’s body always does when it’s aroused—but never this much, and never this quickly. “Lan Zhan, I’m leaking.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan agrees, and licks his lips. “You are.”

“This is the worst. This is the worst, I’m going to die, I’m—” He takes a few quick breaths. The roof of his mouth buzzes and he begins to think that maybe, actually, he’s not exaggerating. Every part of him is now acutely aware of this stranger’s body and wow! It sucks!! “Holy fuck, this is so weird. Lan Zhan, I don’t—I—”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan meets his eyes, gaze cooling with concern. “It is alright. Breathe.”

“I don’t know what to do? Do we fuck now? We fuck now, right? Lan Zhan, this feels really weird. Hey, I think I’m freaking out. Say something nice?”

“Breathe,” Lan Zhan says, again, which is not particularly nice but Wei Wuxian appreciates the attempt nonetheless. He breathes. “You do not need to be alarmed. This is normal.”

“It doesn’t feel normal,” Wei Wuxian says, high-pitched and frantic. He’s not supposed to feel like this. He’s not supposed to be an omega, he’s not supposed to feel like this, he’s not— “Lan Zhan, I’m scared.”

“I understand. May I hold you?”

“Please.”

Lan Zhan crosses the room in three swift strides, gathering Wei Wuxian into his arms. He kisses the top of his head, his temples, his nose. His scent is a balm in and of itself, settling Wei Wuxian’s shaky nerves as he noses along Lan Zhan’s collarbones. He wraps his arms around his husband’s waist and clings as, low in his chest, Lan Zhan begins to hum Wangxian. 

For several minutes, Lan Zhan simply holds him and lets him adjust to the strange new sensations in his body. He breathes slowly, deeply, and Wei Wuxian follows his lead. Gradually, the sharpness of his fear fades into grudging discomfort, and he pets the small of Lan Zhan’s back absently with his fingers. 

“Lan Zhan,” he murmurs, “I’m being such a fool, aren’t I?”

Lan Zhan makes a quiet, disapproving noise. 

“It’s just—it really shouldn’t matter. So what if I’m an omega? So what if this body feels different? It shouldn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do about it, anyway.”

Lan Zhan is quiet, for a long moment, before he says, “If it bothers you so much, I am sure we can find a way to keep it from happening again. There are medications to prevent heats, and talismans to suppress instinct.”

Wei Wuxian blows out a breath, pressing his nose to Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He could do that. He really could. It would get rid of all this confusion. It would let him feel like a beta again. It would let him feel, however slightly, like this body isn’t so dissimilar to his last. But—

But that’s not true, is it? His body is different, and in so many ways. It will never be what it used to be. He will never be what he used to be—and that’s disorientating, and it’s sad, and it’s scary, and it’s new and it’s exciting and it’s hopeful. So it isn’t bad, not really, not all the way. Wei Wuxian thinks maybe he could like it—or learn to like it, at least—if he tried. To do that, though, he’d have to accept—

Well. He’d have to accept that this body is his.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, and then falters. “Lan Zhan.”

“I’m here.”

“I miss my old body.” He swallows, hard. “I miss the way things used to be. Not—not everything, but so much. It’s all very different now, isn’t it? We’re all very different now.”

It isn’t just Wei Wuxian’s body that has changed. Lan Zhan isn’t the same anymore, either, or Jiang Cheng or a-Yuan or Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang or—or anyone. Sixteen years is a long time. The world didn’t stagnate when he left it. Maybe it would have been easier, if he’d been there to see them all change, if it had felt gradual, but he wasn’t and it didn’t. Eighteen years ago, he blinked and woke up in a new body and a new world. 

“I miss it too,” Lan Zhan admits quietly.

“Do you?” Wei Wuxian peeks up at him, surprised.

“Mn. Things were simpler, back then.”

Wei Wuxian laughs damply, pressing his face to Lan Zhan’s chest again. “Yeah, for sure. All I had to worry about was going to lectures and getting Lan Zhan’s attention! Those were the days, huh?”

Jiang Cheng had loved him, back then. Jiang Yanli had been alive to make soups and kiss his forehead and pet his hair, back then. Lan Xichen had smiled without a weight in his eyes, back then. Back then, Wei Wuxian thinks, and his chest feels hollow and carved-out. Back then. 

“They were good days,” Lan Zhan agrees softly. He smooths his hand over Wei Wuxian’s hair, and Wei Wuxian curls his fingers into the fabric over his husband’s heart. “But these are good days, too. I do not regret being here.”

“I don’t regret it, either. I just—I—Lan Zhan, ah, it scares me, moving on like this. It’s so different. I’m so different. Is that really okay?”

“Change is not always bad.” Lan Zhan draws back, framing Wei Wuxian’s face in his elegant fingers. He studies Wei Wuxian intently, and Wei Wuxian sniffles wretchedly at him. This must be the most un-sexy heat in the world. After a moment, Lan Zhan nods decisively. “Wei Ying is still Wei Ying.”

“What?”

“The things that make Wei Ying who he is are unchanged,” Lan Zhan explains. “Your smile. Your jokes. Your love. Your righteousness. Your eyes—when you laugh, they crinkle in the same way they did back then, Wei Ying, did you know? Who you are has not changed. Wei Ying is still Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying is also still crying, thanks, Lan Zhan . As if he weren’t emotional enough already! He rubs his tears into the fabric of Lan Zhan’s robes, fingers grasping desperately at him as he tries to keep his breathing steady. “You really—you—Lan Zhan, ah, I love you too much. My heart can’t take it!”

Lan Zhan makes a satisfied little noise and nuzzles his face against the top of Wei Wuxian’s head. 

It takes Wei Wuxian several more minutes to stop crying, because he is hormonal and nostalgic and also a huge giant crybaby. Lan Zhan sways them gently on their feet, his weight solid and warm and familiar. When Wei Wuxian finally draws back, he wipes his gross blotchy face on his sleeves before looking up. His smile is wobbly but true.

“Lan Zhan is so wise,” he says, and Lan Zhan smiles at him. His heart—wretched, lovestruck thing!—melts helplessly in his chest. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that getting used to all of this is so much, sometimes.”

“Mn. And if heats are not something you want to get used to, then we will find a way around them. I would not see you so distressed again.”

Wei Wuxian reaches up to catch Lan Zhan’s hand. “No, Lan Zhan, I’m—this is my body, now. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is, and I want to be okay with that someday. I want to feel like I belong in here.”

“Would it not be easier to feel that way if it was more familiar to you? If it did not have heats?”

“I mean, maybe? But it’s like—it’s like this body is a stranger to me, still, and I think I should get to know it better before I go deciding I hate it. You know? Is that silly? I don’t mind being an omega, I think, it’s just that it’s all so new and strange and I don’t know what to do about it and I’m having a lot of very big feelings.”

“Very big feelings,” Lan Zhan agrees solemnly. “Very little body.”

“Hey! I’m not that much smaller than you, you take that back!”

“Where do all of those feelings fit?”

“They don’t.” Wei Wuxian laughs, pressing a small grin to Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “That must be why I’m leaking from so many orifices. You know, I’m probably going to dehydrate and die before we even get to fuck. This was a very poor physiological design.”

“I like it.”

“You’d better be careful. At this rate I’m going to develop a tolerance for your shameless words. Then what will you do?”

“I am not concerned,” Lan Zhan says, placid. “Wei Ying is always easy to fluster.”

“You, sir, are a brat.”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian bounces up onto his toes to kiss his brat of a husband, then grimaces as the movement reminds him that he is leaking. His trousers cling damply to the insides of his thighs and chafe against the sensitive skin there, making him squirm. “Eugh. Lan Zhan, new rule: no pants allowed!”

Lan Zhan huffs in soft amusement, pushing Wei Wuxian back. Wei Wuxian is, fortunately, wearing only trousers and a sheer robe. Under his husband’s practiced hands, he’s undressed in only a moment. Using his trousers, Wei Wuxian wipes up the mess between his legs. It helps, for about three whole seconds. Why is he so wet. 

“I will go get towels,” Lan Zhan says, because he’s smart like that. 

Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, settles into their nest and thanks past Wei Wuxian’s foresight in waterproofing everything as he nestles into a lump of Lan Zhan’s robes. When Lan Zhan returns he is, unreasonably, still wearing pants. “Lan Zhan, you rulebreaker! Take your pants off.”

Lan Zhan hesitates, which is odd.

“Hm? Lan Zhan, you don’t want to?”

“I do not want to make Wei Ying uncomfortable,” Lan Zhan says, which Wei Wuxian translates to mean I’m very horny for Wei Ying’s sexy body and my dick is so hard it’s intimidating please don’t look at me.

Wei Wuxian laughs lightly, patting the nest beside him. “Okay, okay. Just lay beside me for a few minutes, then?”

Lan Zhan curls up next to him, pressing their foreheads together until Wei Wuxian has to go cross-eyed just to look at him properly. Lan Zhan strokes his jaw, fingers feather-light, drawing streaks of his sharp scent out and onto their skin. 

“Can we still try, though? In a little while?” Wei Wuxian murmurs. 

Lan Zhan blinks a question at him. 

“Sex,” Wei Wuxian explains. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Ah. I would be more than happy to. But—” The shadow of a frown flits over Lan Zhan’s face. “Are you sure that won’t make you feel worse?”

“Lan Zhan, really.”

“Wei Ying, really.”

Well, that’s a solid argument! 

Really, though, Lan Zhan might be right. Feeling things—especially unusual things like this heat—make him more aware of this body, and that hasn’t been the most pleasant thing in the world these past few days. But what if it could be pleasant? What if he could do something nice with this body while it’s in heat? What if his heat could make him feel good instead of making him feel all tangled and lost and strange? 

“I don’t think it will, and if it does, I’ll tell you,” Wei Wuxian says, looking seriously at him. “But it’s like—it’s familiar, you know? Sex with Lan Zhan. I know how to do that. It feels normal, and it might help me stop focusing on all the bad parts of this. And besides,” he adds, with a cheekier smile, “sex with Lan Zhan has been clinically proven to make everything better!”

“That is not true.”

“Really? Alright, name one thing it would make worse!”

“Childbirth.”

“Ah.” 

Lan Zhan wins. Lan Zhan definitely wins. 

“Would you like to talk more about it first?” Lan Zhan asks, turning his head to look at Wei Wuxian.

“What? About sex during childbirth?”

“About your feelings.”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian rolls onto his back, focusing on the ceiling. “I think I’m okay now. I mean, it’s not something that’s going to go away overnight, but—it’s okay. Most of my gross feelings are just physical right now. I’m very sticky.”

Lan Zhan sits up and reaches for a towel. He cleans, gently, between Wei Wuxian’s legs—his touch feels good, soft and thorough. Wei Wuxian spreads his thighs and sighs as slow pleasure begins to curl in his belly. “Feels good,” he murmurs, when Lan Zhan glances up at him. “Lan Zhan, keep going?”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Not anymore.” Wei Wuxian wiggles his hips. “Er-gege makes it feel better.”

Lan Zhan rubs the towel over Wei Wuxian’s cock, where it’s still soft against his thigh; the texture of the fabric drags pleasantly over loose skin, and he sighs his approval. Unfortunately, this does little to help with his slicking situation. He whines pitifully as the sheets below him begin to grow damp and uncomfortable—being waterproofed will keep them from absorbing, but his slick still collects on their surface.

“Up,” Lan Zhan murmurs, and Wei Wuxian lifts his hips. He slides a clean, dry towel into place beneath him. Then his hand returns, wrapping gently around Wei Wuxian’s cock. Wei Wuxian sucks a breath through his teeth. “Okay?”

“Very okay,” Wei Wuxian says. Lan Zhan’s touch sends sparks skittering up and down his spine; they catch in the pit of his abdomen and smolder there. He pushes his hips up, insistently, until Lan Zhan begins to stroke him. “Ah—ah, shit, more than okay. That’s good. That’s really good—keep doing that? Er-gege, keep doing that.”

Lan Zhan keeps doing that. He draws his hand along Wei Wuxian’s cock, coaxing it to full hardness. Wei Wuxian squirms beneath him in delight, already breathless—this is good, this is familiar, this is Lan Zhan. His touch is a comfort as much as it is an indulgence. As it turns out, Wei Wuxian was right. This body doesn’t always feel strange and uncomfortable; sometimes, in fact, it feels very, very nice. It’s good to be reminded.

As nice as Lan Zhan’s hand on his cock is, however, Wei Wuxian is rapidly becoming aware that he wants that hand in other places. Ordinarily he would have no problem telling Lan Zhan so—but this time is obviously different, and suddenly his cheeks are hot. What if Lan Zhan thinks it’s strange, how wet he is down there? Wei Wuxian certainly does! Sure, Lan Zhan said he liked it earlier, but what is Wei Wuxian supposed to do, take him at his word like he’s an honest man or something?

...so actually.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan’s hand pauses. Wei Wuxian stares very hard at the ceiling and does not look at the gorgeous man between his legs. “You’re quiet.”

“Sorry, sorry, I just, um—” What a nice ceiling! Has it always been that color! Wow!! “Lan Zhan, you should—could you—haaaah—”

Wei Wuxian sits up in a flurry of limbs, grabbing Lan Zhan’s hand and pushing it farther down.

“Okay?” he asks, squeakily. “Lan Zhan is that okay?”

Lan Zhan makes a soft rumble of a noise—not quite a growl, but getting there—and Wei Wuxian dares to snatch a glance at him. His eyes are dark and intent and hungry. He doesn’t bother with a verbal response; he’s always been a man of action, that Lan Zhan! He shifts forward and grinds the heel of his hand against Wei Wuxian’s entrance in one long, strong push. Wei Wuxian keens.

Suddenly, he is acutely aware—moreso than he’s ever been—of how empty he is, and of how very much he doesn’t want to be. He flops back onto the mattress, dragging his legs up to bracket Lan Zhan between his knees. Lan Zhan wipes his fingers through the slick, then wraps them around Wei Wuxian’s cock to stroke him again, which is actually what he should be doing all the time ever. He uses the fingers of his other hand to massage Wei Wuxian’s perineum, coaxing more slick from him. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gasps, “ah, gods, that feels good. I don’t think we need oil this time, do you? Just an impression I’m getting—c’mon, put something in, you can put something in already. At this rate you could probably just go ahead and shove your whole cock in there, I don’t even think it would hurt I’m so—“

At this, Lan Zhan shoots him a glare. 

“What?” Wei Wuxian wiggles impatiently. “Lan Zhan, really! I’m ready!”

“You will have patience.”

Wei Wuxian whines dramatically, which is to say he whines the only way he knows how to. “At least hurry up, then. I really want it!”

Lan Zhan does, obligingly, slide a single finger into Wei Wuxian’s hole. Wei Wuxian hisses and grinds down on it. It’s an easier fit than it’s ever been before; his body is wet and pliant and wanting. Despite this, Lan Zhan—bastard!—refuses to rush. He strokes the insides of Wei Wuxian’s walls carefully, his gaze rapt and his lips parted as he watches his own hand move.

“Another one,” Wei Wuxian demands. At this rate, it would be faster to fuck himself (but it would not, of course, be nearly as good).“Another, Lan Zhan, I want more, give me another.”

Lan Zhan pushes in a second finger. This one is a tighter fit, and Wei Wuxian shivers in delight as he’s stretched. That feels good. That feels right. Lan Zhan scissors his fingers, easing Wei Wuxian open as he pants and fists his hands in the sheets. Then Lan Zhan’s fingers catch on the spot inside that makes pleasure flash white-hot through him; they rub there, unrelenting, as he writhes. 

“Lan Zhan—ah, fuck, Lan Zhan, you can’t do that so much or I’ll come!”

“Mn.”

“But I want Lan Zhan inside me first! Lan Zhan—nngh, please, is that what you want? Do you want me to beg for you? For your cock? I will—oh, oh, Er-gege, Hanguang-jun, please, I need it! I need you to fill me, I need your knot! I want to be with you when I come. I want to feel you.”

Lan Zhan’s fingers falter, which is good, because if he’d kept going much longer Wei Wuxian really would have come—but also it is terrible, because Wei Wuxian wants more more more. He whimpers up at Lan Zhan, clutching his shoulders needily. 

“Please, please,” he repeats, “please, Lan Zhan, get inside me, make it feel better.”

Lan Zhan catches his wrists, kneeling up so he can look down at him. “You will tell me if it hurts. If you are uncomfortable.”

It’s not a request.

“Yes, yes yes.” Wei Wuxian nods rapidly. “Promise, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan nods, and then leans back to remove his clothing. Wei Wuxian sits up to help, but Lan Zhan shoots him a sharp look and bares his teeth as soon as he moves. 

“Haaah, Lan Zhan, I like that,” Wei Wuxian says, slumping back into the pillows as Lan Zhan divests himself of his trousers. “I like it when you do that. You should do it more.”

Lan Zhan crawls up Wei Wuxian’s body, bracketing him in with arms and legs before leaning down to kiss him. His incisors snag on Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, biting roughly as Wei Wuxian whines and licks his teeth. He draws back only a handful of inches to murmur, “Clarify.”

“You know what I mean,” Wei Wuxian says, which earns him another sharp nip in rebuke. “Growl at me, tell me what to do—Lan Zhan, sweetheart, alpha, you know what I mean.”

A soft growl rolls through Lan Zhan’s chest, and Wei Wuxian licks kisses across his throat and chin and breathes yes, yes, yes against the lovebite-mottled skin there. Every part of him resonates with the rightness of it. He wants to submit to Lan Zhan more than anything, if only Lan Zhan asks. 

Lan Zhan, like the polite alpha he is, always asks very clearly.

He fits a palm against Wei Wuxian’s chest and pushes down, growling again, and Wei Wuxian immediately goes limp beneath him. He tips his chin up, baring his throat and whimpering to appease his mate. Lan Zhan dips his head, scraping teeth against Wei Wuxian’s collarbones and tangling fingers into his hair.

“Good,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Good, Wei Ying. Just like that.”

Lan Zhan scent-marks him before leaning back to gather more of Wei Wuxian’s slick on his fingers. He coats his own cock liberally in it, which makes Wei Wuxian’s head spin because wow, and then sets a hand on Wei Wuxian’s abdomen before glancing up at him. 

“Yes—Lan Zhan, please, yes, I want it. Don’t make me wait anymore. I’ve waited so long, Er-gege, haven’t I been good?”

“Wei Ying is always good,” Lan Zhan agrees, and then pushes the head of his cock in. Wei Wuxian gasps and arches up, but Lan Zhan’s hand presses him back down firmly. He slides in by increments, slow and steady no matter how much Wei Wuxian begs and complains and demands. He seems to have made up his mind that this round, at least, will be gentle—and once his mind is made up, Wei Wuxian truly has no hope of changing it. Stubborn man! Lan Zhan only pauses once he’s fully seated inside, watching Wei Wuxian’s face carefully. “Alright?”

“More than alright, Lan Zhan, do you really need to ask!”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan draws back, his cock dragging against Wei Wuxian’s walls with unbearable slowness. When he pushes in again, Wei Wuxian tosses his head against the pillows and moans. It’s good— a hot, solid stretch throughout. “And you will answer me honestly.”

“Faster—Lan Zhan, more, faster—you aren’t going to break me.”

“You will answer me honestly,” Lan Zhan repeats, still moving at the pace of an actual tortoise (wait, do tortoises have sex? how fast? also, how in general? another mystery to solve—preferably at a later date!),“won’t you.”

Another not-a-question.

Wei Wuxian nods rapidly. “Yeeees, Lan Zhan I already promised. You’re being so mean to me, gege! Aren’t you supposed to trust me when I tell you things? I know you can’t always, when it comes to me talking about myself, but—Lan Zhan, aiya, you’ve gotta start somewhere!”

Lan Zhan pauses to mull this over, once he’s settled himself deep inside again, while Wei Wuxian wails at the loss of movement. “Mn,” he decides, finally. “Wei Ying is right.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, hm, Er-gege?”

Lan Zhan pulls out and then slams back in with enough force to make Wei Wuxian yelp in surprise—and in pleasure, because wow, he was right and that feels good. He wraps his legs around Lan Zhan’s hips, arching to meet him and moaning wantonly. Each thrust sends a bolt of heat up his spine, and pleasure flares in his belly. He can feel the swell of Lan Zhan’s knot bumping against his ass, and he squeezes his legs to urge Lan Zhan further into himself. 

“Just like that, just like that, Lan Zhan, ah, you’re so good,” he pants. Lan Zhan looms over him, propped up with his hands on either side of Wei Wuxian’s head, a gorgeous curve of sweat-slick skin and rippling muscle. Wei Wuxian reaches up, flattening one hand to Lan Zhan’s stomach so he can feel the flex each time he drives his hips forward. His other hand knots into Lan Zhan’s hair, nails dragging across his scalp. “You make me feel so good, Er-gege, so good to me.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes find his, wide and serious. His lips part around every exhale jolted from him. It’s a crime that Wei Wuxian can’t kiss him. 

“Lan Zhan, too far away,” he pleads, tugging Lan Zhan’s hair. 

Lan Zhan obediently lowers himself onto his forearms, which makes it more it difficult for him to thrust as hard as he’s able to—but he more than makes up for the loss with his kisses. Their mouths move together, slick and breathless and clumsy, and Wei Wuxian has to laugh when Lan Zhan accidentally bites his own tongue in his enthusiasm. He winds his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, holding him close as he brings their bodies together again and again and again. 

As it turns out, it doesn’t take much more than that to pull Lan Zhan to the edge. He gasps into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, his hips stuttering, and Wei Wuxian mumbles encouragement against his lips. “C’mon, gege, it’s okay, that’s it. I need you to come. I need you to knot me. Lan Zhan, please.”

Lan Zhan really can’t deny him anything.

He comes with a growl that makes Wei Wuxian’s cock throb, shoving his own cock in to the root and latching onto Wei Wuxian’s throat with his teeth. His knot swells rapidly, flaring out against Wei Wuxian’s walls in a ring of sharp pressure. The sensation isn’t wholly unfamiliar—Lan Zhan has knotted him in rut before—but it still makes Wei Wuxian whine and twitch beneath him. 

When Lan Zhan realizes that he has yet to come, he shoves his hips forward again. His knot shifts inside, then rubs up against that perfect spot and makes Wei Wuxian gasp. “There! There there there, oh, Lan Zhan, right there!”

Lan Zhan can’t move far, like this, but he grinds his hips in small circles and presses his knot relentlessly against that spot. His other hand reaches between them, gripping Wei Wuxian’s cock and offering it a few cursory tugs. Wei Wuxian comes with a cry of Lan Zhan’s name, tipping his chin up to invite Lan Zhan’s aggressive bites and kisses. The cum that splashes across his stomach is familiar. The gush of wet warmth throughout his abdomen is not, and if he weren’t so snugly knotted he’s sure he would have soaked through their towels. As it is, Lan Zhan groans into the skin of his throat and twitches his hips forward in helpless little thrusts while Wei Wuxian orgasms around him.

“Wei Ying,” he breathes. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian leans up, peppering his mate’s face with kisses and mumbled praises. That is, evidently, the signal required for Lan Zhan to flop his whole heavy self down on top of him. He is crushed in the most pleasant of ways. He pets Lan Zhan’s back with one hand, cradling his head with the other and sighing in contentment.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “that was so good.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan nuzzles into the crook of Wei Wuxian’s neck, lips brushing his skin. “Wei Ying feels good.”

“Ah, well, at least all this leaking is worth something, then.”

Lan Zhan huffs in amusement, nosing along his jaw. “You are alright?”

“Yep,” Wei Wuxian chirps—but when Lan Zhan peers up at him, he pauses to actually consider the question. He’s hot and sweaty and sticky, but he also feels relaxed and warm and pleasantly stretched. “I feel nice, Lan Zhan. What about you?”

“Very nice.” Lan Zhan gives another pointed squirm of his hips, jostling his knot and making Wei Wuxian hiss. “I will get more towels soon.”

“Nooooo.” Wei Wuxian convulsively tightens all of his limbs around Lan Zhan. His husband will have to peel him off piece by piece! “No, Lan Zhan, don’t go anywhere.”

“Soon. Not now.”

“Not ever.”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan pauses to consider this. “I foresee a few problems with that plan.”

Wei Wuxian ignores this entirely unwarranted criticism, rubbing his face against Lan Zhan’s hair to scent-mark him—as though he didn’t already smell like Wei Wuxian everywhere. They won’t be able to get rid of this scent for weeks. Good, Wei Wuxian thinks, viciously satisfied with the thought. Let everyone know who Lan Zhan spends his ruts with. 

Lan Zhan does, eventually, peel Wei Wuxian off of himself once his knot has gone down. When he pulls out, a wash of slick and cum follows in his wake, and Wei Wuxian grimaces at the feeling. He is much less miffed about Lan Zhan going to get clean towels, after that. They wipe themselves off and sit down for tea, if only because Lan Zhan seems to be under the impression that Wei Wuxian really will dehydrate and die if he doesn’t drink at least three cups. 

Wei Wuxian complains about this—not particularly because he cares, but because he wants Lan Zhan to show him teeth again. “Lan Zhaaan, I don’t want to drink anymore. I’m already sloshing.”

“You have only had two cups. One more.”

“Lan Zhaaaaaan.”

“You must stay hydrated.”

“Lan Zhaaaaaaaaaaaan.”

“Behave and drink your tea.”

“Lan Zhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.”

“Wei Ying.”

There’s a warning in his tone, now. Wei Wuxian grins. 

“Lan Zhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—”

Lan Zhan bares his teeth—a flash of gleaming white—and looks pointedly from Wei Wuxian to his cup. Wei Wuxian, goal achieved, grins and reaches for it. As he lifts the cup to his lips, Lan Zhan makes a quiet sound of approval, which would be fine, except then he goes and says, “Good boy, Wei Ying.”

So Wei Wuxian chokes on his tea.

Once he’s finished hacking, and once Lan Zhan has stopped patting his back quite so fretfully, he reaches for a swig of water instead. He’s tempted to rebuke Lan Zhan—but really, really, what good would it do? His husband is so shameless! No one ever believes him, but it’s true!! Wei Wuxian is really the victim here!!!

After tea, Wei Wuxian scoots himself over to Lan Zhan again. He always wants his husband’s attention on him, but right now he’s starved for it. Every second Lan Zhan isn’t focused on him is a catastrophe. So he does his best to make a nuisance of himself as Lan Zhan cleans up their dishes, trailing behind him and clinging to his waist and tugging his hair. 

“If Wei Ying wants me to fuck him again soon,” Lan Zhan says, when Wei Wuxian trips him one-too-many times, “then perhaps he should consider ways of making this process more expedient.”

“Forget the dishes,” Wei Wuxian says, burying his face between the peaks of Lan Zhan’s shoulder blades. “Aren’t I more fun? Aren’t I more important?”

He fully expects Lan Zhan to persist in his chore, but his heat must make him more convincing than usual, because Lan Zhan actually sets down the dishes and leads him back to the bed. He’s already squirming, eagerly tugging his husband into place on top of him. 

“Irresponsible,” Lan Zhan murmurs between kisses. “Insatiable.”

“Ah, you’re one to talk!”

To be fair, though, Lan Zhan is right—Wei Wuxian really is insatiable right now. His mate fucks him three more times that morning, wringing several orgasms out of him, and he’s still hungry for more. Pretty impressive, if he does say so himself! His world has narrowed itself down to one thing only—sex! lots of sex!!—and he pursues it with abandon. It is, to his immense surprise, Lan Zhan who has to tap out first. 

“Wei Ying,” he groans, when Wei Wuxian crawls on top of him for the fifth time. “Break.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, because Lan Zhan’s gotta be kidding—he’s always had more stamina, between the two of them. When he realizes Lan Zhan is serious, he has to pause to gape at him for a moment. “What, really?”

Lan Zhan’s ears are pink, which is cute. Then he says, “I’m sorry,” which is not. 

“What? No, Lan Zhan, it’s okay!”

Lan Zhan’s lower lip pushes forward the merest millimeter. It’s as close to a pout as he gets. “I should be able to provide for you this way. I only need a few more minutes, and then I’ll—”

“Don’t be silly, gege,” Wei Wuxian scolds, bumping their foreheads together. “Take as long as you need. I’ll wait.”

Waiting is not, however, as easy as it sounds. Wei Wuxian sprawls out on the mattress alongside Lan Zhan, crossing his arms and propping his chin on them. Heat simmers at the base of his spine—a constant, unyielding arousal. To ease it, however slightly, he rocks his hips into the mattress. Lan Zhan, ever-attentive, arches an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Hanguang-jun, I’m only getting comfortable.”

He then proceeds to make himself very, very comfortable over the next few minutes. The mattress is no substitute for Lan Zhan himself, but it will do. The friction is enough to take the edge off of his urgency as he rubs his cock along the sheets, eyes half-lidded. Their whole nest smells like them, like sweat and sex and warm bodies. Wei Wuxian bites at the pillows, simply to have something in his mouth, and sighs shakily as pleasure washes up his body in syrupy waves.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, eyes fixed on him. 

“Hmm?”

Lan Zhan reaches out, dragging Wei Wuxian on top of him. He braces one hand against the small of Wei Wuxian’s back and pushes down, encouraging him to roll his hips against the warm, study muscles of his thigh. Wei Wuxian moans appreciatively, mouthing at his chest and shoulder. His husband tastes like salt there, sweat-sticky. He thinks he could get off this way, if only he weren’t so constantly, distressingly aware of how empty he is. 

Groaning, he rolls over and settles himself between Lan Zhan’s legs. Lan Zhan obligingly sits up, scooting back to lean against the wall and dragging him along. Wei Wuxian sprawls out against him, parting his own legs before reaching down to slide a finger into himself. A second finger joins it shortly after. He’s still loose and slick, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to thrust both fingers inside. As he does, he feels Lan Zhan’s cock—still soft against his back—give a feeble twitch as it attempts, valiantly, to harden again. 

“Good boy,” Lan Zhan murmurs, breath fanning across his ear, and Wei Wuxian whines and shudders. Cruel husband! The cruelest!! His hands come up to cup Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, rubbing slowly up and down his arms. “Your cock, too.”

Wei Wuxian hurries to obey, wrapping his free hand around his cock and stroking it from root to tip. His hips stutter into the feeling. He tips his head back against Lan Zhan’s collarbone, panting, and feels lips brush his jaw. Another high, needy whine escapes his throat as he adds a third finger. The hand on his cock speeds its rhythm until—

“Slow, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan admonishes. “Don’t rush.”

“I’m not rushing,” Wei Ying protests (he definitely is), but slows his hands anyway. He stretches his legs along Lan Zhan’s, luxuriating in the ebb and flow of feeling as his dry palm rasps against the skin of his cock and his fingers press into the warm give of his inner walls. Lan Zhan smooths one hand across his belly, from the thatch of curls around his cock to the distinct arches of his collarbones. On his way back down, he pauses to pinch a nipple, and Wei Wuxian gasps. “Ah, Lan Zhan! Shouldn’t you warn me?”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, thoughtfully, and then pinches again. Wei Wuxian squirms against him, digging his heels into the mattress to push himself more snugly against his husband. He pouts when Lan Zhan draws his hand back, but it’s only gone for a moment—it returns damp with saliva, and Lan Zhan rolls his nipple between the pads of his fingers.

“Oh—oh, no, Lan Zhan, that’s good.” Wei Wuxian groans, tightening his hand on his cock. “I want to go faster. Can’t we go faster?”

“Was it Wei Ying who chastised me for impatience earlier?” Lan Zhan wonders aloud, and speeds up not at all, because he is an asshole. 

“Aiya, you, don’t snark at me while I’m vulnerable! You should have more respect than that. Here I am, weak and suffering the woes of my heat, and you still have the nerve to taunt me. Have you no pity? Is Lan Zhan truly that heartless?”

Lan Zhan scrapes teeth over the slope of his shoulder and switches to the other nipple, leaving Wei Wuxian to wriggle and whine and thrust into his own fist. 

“Heartless!” Wei Wuxian decides, in response to his own question. “Really heartless! Won’t you give me what I want? Won’t my alpha give me what I want?”

“I am giving you what you want,” Lan Zhan replies serenely. His mouth brushes the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck, directly over his mating mark, and he nips: a gentle warning. “Wei Ying. Behave.”

Wei Wuxian is half-tempted to smirk and say make me, but Lan Zhan had asked for a break and he deserves one. He doesn’t want to push his poor husband too hard, especially on the first day! So he tips his chin up, instead, bares his throat and whines again. “Lan Zhan, I’m behaving. I’m being so good. I did what you said, didn’t I?”

“Mn, you did.” Lan Zhan kisses the side of his throat. His hand trails down to curl over Wei Wuxian’s around his cock, guiding it into a quicker rhythm, and Wei Wuxian moans his gratitude. “You are being a very good boy.”

The words send another shiver down Wei Wuxian’s spine, and he turns his face to bury it against Lan Zhan’s neck. “Lan Zhan,” he complains, out of habit more than any hope of success, “really, you can’t keep—”

Lan Zhan growls at him, sudden and sharp, and Wei Wuxian freezes.

“Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do,” he warns, and—oh, oh. A hot thrill pulses beneath Wei Wuxian’s skin, drawing tight beneath his navel. “If I want to tell Wei Ying that he is good, then I will tell Wei Ying that he is good and he will say yes, Lan Zhan. Do you understand?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth moves silently, for a moment, and Lan Zhan waits without rushing—this is his chance to back out, to say he’s had enough, to ease them back down into something safe and mild. He closes his mouth. Swallows. 

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, and his voice is quieter, now, an unspoken question lingering between them. Lan Zhan’s care worms its way into Wei Wuxian’s heart and loosens the last tight knot there, coaxing him to unravel.

“Yes, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes, twisting around for a proper kiss. Lan Zhan meets him readily, his tongue brushing Wei Wuxian’s lips. “Yes, okay, yes, I—Lan Zhan, please.”

“Good,” Lan Zhan says, soothing, warm. His hand tightens over Wei Wuxian’s, squeezing his cock, as his other palm sweeps over Wei Wuxian’s chest in slow patterns. “Good, very good. Relax.”

Easier said than done, Wei Wuxian thinks, but he does try. He slumps into Lan Zhan, letting his eyes flutter shut as he twists his hand around the head of his own cock. Lan Zhan hums his approval, his hands warm on Wei Wuxian’s waist.

“Another finger.”

Wei Wuxian obeys quickly, working a third finger in alongside the other two. It stimies his complaints for at least a whole minute. He twists them inside, searching for that perfect spot that—there! He hisses when he finds it, his thighs tensing and his stomach tightening. Lan Zhan makes a quiet, interested noise and nuzzles his ear.

“Keep pressing there,” he says, and Wei Wuxian complies with a shivery breath. It’s an awkward angle for his wrist, but the jolts of heat that rocket up his spine with each push are worth it. “Does it feel good?”

“Like you need to ask,” Wei Wuxian scoffs, which earns him the unimpressed arch of his husband’s elegant eyebrow. 

“Wei Ying.”

“Yeees, Lan Zhan, of course it feels good.” Wei Wuxian rocks his hips back, pressing his fingers further into himself and groaning. “So good. Mm, I could come this way, Er-gege.”

“Not until I say you can.”

“Bossy, bossy!”

See, now, ordinarily Wei Wuxian is all for edging—right now, however, he thinks he might explode if he tries. He’s baiting Lan Zhan within seconds, whining plaintively within minutes, and begging shortly after that. His husband, being a most merciless man, allows him no reprieve. His hands trail over Wei Wuxian’s skin, flat and dry, and his voice remains a low and patient rumble: “Slower, Wei Ying” and “Touch your chest, Wei Ying” and “Rub the head of your cock for me, Wei Ying.”

“Good boy, Wei Ying,” over and over again, and all Wei Wuxian can do is whimper and chant yes, yes, Lan Zhan, yes until the words are breathless and sore on his tongue. Good? Him? It’s a laughable thought. But Lan Zhan doesn’t lie, and he doesn’t let Wei Wuxian argue, either. He gets a very sound bite the first time he tries, and an order to “take your fingers out; you may have them back when you apologize.”

“Apologize?” Wei Wuxian demands, breathless. 

“For lying,” Lan Zhan says crisply. “Lying is forbidden in Cloud Recesses.”

“What? I didn’t lie! Now you’re just casting aspirations, Lan Er-gege. You think the Yiling Patriarch is nothing but a liar, eh, is that it?”

Lan Zhan really does scowl at him, for that, and Wei Wuxian can admit the joke was in poor taste. “Do not put words in my mouth.”

“Then what would you like me to put in your mouth? I can think of a few things.”

This does not further Wei Wuxian’s argument any; it does, however, get Lan Zhan to shove two fingers into his mouth, so he considers a win. He sucks Lan Zhan’s fingers, thrusting his tongue between them and biting gently on the knuckles. Lan Zhan curls his index finger, rubbing the soft underside of Wei Wuxian’s tongue.

“I said,” he says, and Wei Wuxian makes a shapeless noise to let him know he’s listening, “that Wei Ying was doing very well. You said ‘nuh-uh.’ This was a lie. You may apologize.”

May he? May he really? His mouth’s a little busy for that, at the moment. When Lan Zhan starts to pull back, however, he grips his wrist to keep him in place and whines. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan scolds, tapping his molars. “Apologize now.”

Wei Wuxian draws back, slurs, “Sorry, Zhanzhan,” and immediately leans forward again. Lan Zhan yanks his hand away entirely then, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s cry of offense, and unrepentantly pinches his side. Wei Wuxian yelps as the flash of pain leaps straight to his straining cock. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you brute, I said sorry!”

“Say it properly. Who are you apologizing to?” Lan Zhan demands.

Aha! A trick question! Wei Wuxian eyes him warily. “To Lan Zhan,” he tries, first.

Lan Zhan dips his head slightly. “You are forgiven. To who else should you apologize?”

Wei Wuxian looks mutinously at him, jaw set. 

“Wei Ying. Who else have you insulted with your rash words?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wei Wuxian says sulkily. “Besides, it’s not like I was entirely wro—”

“Wei Ying should have a care how he finishes that sentence,” Lan Zhan says darkly, “if he wants to come again today.”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw wires shut as he studies his mate, trying to gauge how serious he is. “You wouldn’t,” he decides, finally. “Lan Zhan, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. I’m in heat!”

“That does not give you the right to speak ill of my husband. You should consider the punishment merciful. If anyone else were to do such a thing—” A flash of teeth, then, and a low rock-rumble of a growl that sets Wei Wuxian’s heart racing and his cock throbbing. “—I would not be so kind.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, in a voice that is definitely very manly and not at all a squeak. “I would not want to offend Hanguang-jun.”

“No, you would not. So you must apologize nicely to my husband and make amends with him.”

“Amends, huh? And how will this lowly one do that?”

Lan Zhan leans down, licks the shell of his ear. “You will make him come.”

“Oh—oooh, yeah, I can do that.” He can do that really fast, if Lan Zhan keeps ordering him around in that no-nonsense voice of his. “I can do that, Lan Zhan.”

“Apologize, first.”

Wei Wuxian’s teeth grind. It’s not the first time he’s been made to do this, and he very much doubts it will be the last. “I’m sorry,” he says. Before Lan Zhan can prompt him again, he adds, much more flatly, “To Wei Ying. Wei Ying is sorry to Wei Ying for—lying.”

Lan Zhan bundles him up, squeezing him tightly enough to drain the tension from his bones. He sags into the hold and lets out a little breathy sigh. Worth it. The words themselves are always awful, but it’s not like Wei Wuxian has to mean them, and it earns him cuddles either way. “Good job,” Lan Zhan whispers against his hair. “Very good job. I know that is hard for you. I am so proud.”

Wei Wuxian squirms, his cheeks hot and his chest aching with the weight of some uncomfortable emotion he would really rather not name. “Lan Zhan, please, please.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan loosens his grip, guiding Wei Wuxian’s fingers back towards his own hole. “Make yourself come now, Wei Ying.”

Now that is a task Wei Wuxian can wholeheartedly get behind. It doesn’t take very much effort at all: he speeds his hand along his cock and pushes his fingers back into his prostate with several long, hard thrusts. Lan Zhan offers his own fingers to suck, and Wei Wuxian does so with abandon. He comes, gasping wetly around Lan Zhan’s fingers, and soaks yet another towel with slick. 

Lan Zhan fucks him again, a few minutes after that, and chews gently on the back of his neck when they both collapse bonelessly into the nest. Wei Wuxian rocks back just to feel him—the hard swell of his knot inside, the sharp lines of their hips nestled together—and he reaches around, settling a hand on Wei Wuxian’s stomach. His pinky brushes the root of his cock. He pushes down, slow and inexorable, and the muscles of Wei Wuxian’s abdomen spasm and clench harder on him. They both hiss. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian groans, “Lan Zhan, I’m going to be so sore. You’re so deep in me. You’re so big—too big! I don’t know how you fit. Ai, it’s going to hurt later.”

“We will have a bath tonight.”

“Mmmkay. Bubbles?”

“If you’d like.” Lan Zhan kisses, softly, behind his ear. “I will give you a massage.”

“Haaah. Lan Zhan, you’re the best.”

Lan Zhan smiles against his skin. Wei Wuxian tries to turn around, just to see it, but the movement tugs at the join of their bodies and Lan Zhan huffs and bites at him until he relaxes again. He keeps one hand over Wei Wuxian’s stomach, pinning him close, while the other trails up and down his arm. His nails leave a faint tingle in their wake.

“Wanna ride you,” Wei Wuxian says, when he feels Lan Zhan’s knot begin to soften. “Lan Zhan, can I?”

“After lunch. It is already late.”

“Just one more time first?” He squirms back onto Lan Zhan’s knot. “Pleeease?”

Lan Zhan’s hands grip his hips, iron and unmoving. “You need to eat and drink.”

“But I’m not hungry,” Wei Wuxian says, and he’s startled to realize that it’s still true. He doesn’t want to eat. He doesn’t want to drink. He just wants Lan Zhan. The deep, gnawing ache in his body has yet to be satisfied—how is he supposed to focus on anything else with that need in him? He’s too busy for trivialities like food and water and other such nonsense. 

“You must eat anyway.” Lan Zhan pulls out, and a wash of fluid coats Wei Wuxian’s thighs. He rubs his legs together until Lan Zhan pries them apart and wipes between them with a towel. At this rate, they’ll have to do laundry tonight.

“I don’t wannaaaaa, Lan Zhaaaan.”

“I do. Keep me company.”

Wei Wuxian pouts as Lan Zhan gets up, pulling food from the basket near the table. He sets out stir-fry tofu, dried jujubes, and two cups for tea. Wei Wuxian watches this process with disinterest, already hitching his hips into the mattress again. His cock is sore. This doesn’t seem to matter to his libidio in the slightest.

“Would you like peaches or tangerines?”

“Would like Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, making grabby hands at him. “C’mere?”

Lan Zhan does, to his surprise, move to Wei Wuxian’s side. Then he scoops him up, one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulders, and deposits him at the table where he sits, sullen and naked, for several seconds. 

“Peaches,” Lan Zhan repeats mildly, “or tangerines?”

“Tangerines,” Wei Wuxian says, sighing gustily and poking at his tofu. It’s good—everything Lan Zhan makes for him is good, really—but his stomach doesn’t so much as rumble when he takes a bite. He sets his chopsticks down and distracts himself with the tangerines, peeling and segmenting one for Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan eats more quickly than usual—no doubt he’s starving. Ah, he’s been working so hard for Wei Wuxian! Wei Wuxian, by contrast, feels like his meal proceeds at a snail’s pace. Chewing is exhausting. Swallowing is unpleasant. Waiting makes his skin crawl. He’s never been great at ignoring arousal, or being patient when he’s worked up, but this is—

This is really too much.

“I’m done,” he announces, pushing away his half-eaten bowl of stir fry. 

“You are not,” Lan Zhan replies immediately. “Finish that.”

“I don’t want to.”

Lan Zhan drags Wei Wuxian’s bowl towards himself and pats his lap. “Come here. I will feed you.”

Tempting, veeeery tempting, but—“No.”

“Wei Ying.”

“I can’t!” Wei Wuxian flops backwards onto the floor, his frustration building at a frankly irrational rate. He wants. He wants he wants he wants he wants, and he feels like a goddamn spoiled toddler about it, like he wants to pound his fists against the floor and wail until Lan Zhan makes the constant empty yearning stop. He does not do this. Barely. “Lan Zhan, I really can’t, I’m serious. I can’t focus on anything else.”

When he glances over, after several seconds of silence, he finds Lan Zhan frowning at him. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Wei Wuxian mutters, looking away from him. “I just—I feel weird. I don’t want to sit still. It’s like this itch and if I’m not—if I don’t—ah, Lan Zhan, don’t listen to me. Finish your lunch.”

Lan Zhan frowns some more, instead, and reaches for a tangerine. The peel comes off in a smooth orange curl between his fingers. “I do not want you to suffer,” he says, “but you cannot go without food, either.”

“I ate,” Wei Wuxian protests.

Lan Zhan eyes his half-empty bowl unhappily.

“Really, it’s enough. You worry too much.” Wei Wuxian says, huffing air through his nose. “I’ve survived on much less.”

“And you will never have to do so again,” Lan Zhan says, his jaw tightening at the reminder. “Wei Ying. Eat.”

Wei Wuxian drops a heel against the floor: once, twice, petulant. He knows he’s being ridiculous—and somewhere, in the rational part of his mind, he even has the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about it. The rest of him cares not at all. He’s hot and itchy and frustrated and wanting and his alpha won’t even touch him. Does his alpha not want him? Is he not sexy enough? Is he not good enough? Is he not—?

Wow, okay, Wei Wuxian! Too much!! He brings his hands up and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until they ache, trying desperately to drive away the sudden threat of tears. Of course Lan Zhan wants him, of course. He’s already fucked him five times today! He doesn’t need to be on top of Wei Wuxian at all times. Really, Wei Wuxian’s being too needy, too demanding, too insecure. Gods, he’s giving himself emotional whiplash.

“...Wei Ying?”

“Uh-huh, yep, yep, yep.” Wei Wuxian sits up and drags his bowl towards himself, shoveling in another mouthful of tofu and chewing vigorously. He swallows. It sits like a lump in his stomach. “Sorry, Lan Zhan, sorry.”

Lan Zhan passes him a slice of tangerine. His fingers brush Wei Wuxian’s elbow and linger there, warm and citrus-stained. “What are you sorry for?”

“Being—being—” He swallows hard, again, before taking the tangerine slice. Lan Zhan doesn’t like it when he talks with his mouth full, and he’s already being such an inconvenience. The least he can do is have some manners. “Giving you trouble.”

“It is no trouble.”

“Of course it is,” Wei Wuxian snaps, and immediately feels bad about it. “Sorry, fuck, sorry, that came out wrong. That was mean. I just—of course it’s trouble for you, Lan Zhan. I’m already wearing you out, and you still have to put up with two more days of this.”

“I am not putting up with anything. I want to be here. I have been enjoying myself.” A brief hesitance, and then, “Have you not been?”

“No, I have, I really have. It’s great. You’re great. I really—hah. I really want you to fuck me right now, actually, but I think that’s going to be a pretty constant theme for the next forty-eight hours.”

“I will fuck you once you finish your tofu,” Lan Zhan offers. 

Wei Wuxian scrapes his chopsticks against the bottom of his bowl, chewing the inside of his cheek. There are only a few bites left. He finishes them as quickly as he can, then shoves the bowl away and scoots around to Lan Zhan’s side. His husband has promises to keep, after all—and he keeps them very, veeeery well. 

When Wei Wuxian is full again, knotted and content and momentarily sated, Lan Zhan says, “I would like to talk more.”

“You? Talk more?” Wei Wuxian murmurs, disbelieving. 

Lan Zhan nibbles the back of his neck. It’s barely a reprimand. “I do not think we finished.” 

“Well, say it, then. You’ve got a captive audience.” Wei Wuxian wriggles, just to feel the pull of Lan Zhan’s knot. “Literally.”

Lan Zhan hums, soft and approving, before sinking his teeth into Wei Wuxian’s heart as he says, “You think you are inconveniencing me.”

Who gave him the right to be so goddamn perspective? “Lan Zhan, it’s not that, it’s—” Wei Wuxian breaks off, blows his cheeks out. Clear communication, right. “I mean. I am. Right, even if you say I’m not, I am. I’m making you stay here with me, and I’m already exhausting you, and I’m complaining and I’m not acting right and I’m...”

“You’re what?” Lan Zhan prompts.

“I feel like an inconvenience,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. “I don’t understand how you can feel otherwise.”

It’s an admission, and not an insult—Lan Zhan will not make him apologize for it. He noses against Wei Wuxian’s scent glands, instead, squeezing him tighter. “My Wei Ying. I am sorry you feel this way. You must know that your heat does not trouble me. I told you that I want to be here, that I am enjoying my time, and it is true. I am happy here, now, with you.”

“I’m acting dumb.”

“You are not.”

“I couldn’t even eat my stupid lunch without complaining, Lan Zhan. I don’t how I’m—how I’m going to sleep tonight, hell, I don’t even think I can, if I keep feeling this way. I don’t know how to make it stop. I want to be good for you, but I—it’s like this body—my body’s staging a coup. I’m trying not to let it. I don’t want to be bad. I don’t want—”

His voice, traitorous thing, cracks down the middle. His eyes sting. Fuck. This is the second time today! This is ridiculous!!

“Wei Ying. Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan squeezes him impossibly tighter, and then rolls over to flatten him against the mattress. The weight grounds him in his body again. He’s not sure that’s a good thing. His body is not being particularly convenient, at the moment. “It is alright. Shh, it is alright to feel this way, my love.”

Wei Wuxian makes a protest, but it’s mostly muffled by the pillows and his miserable sniffling. 

“You can feel however you need to,” Lan Zhan says, solid and unwavering. “You can act however you need to.”

Wei Wuxian mumbles something along the lines of dunwanbead, which Lan Zhan dutifully translates.

“I know you don’t want to be bad,” he says, running a hand along Wei Wuxian’s arm. “You are not bad for feeling this. You are not bad for acting on your instincts the way your body wants you to. You are allowed, Wei Ying, with me. You do not have to control yourself here if you do not want to.”

Whaifihurou. 

“You will not hurt me. If you go too far, I will stop you. Trust yourself. Trust me.”

Wei Wuxian whines, smearing his tears along the pillows. It would be nice, to not worry. It would be nice, to do whatever the hell this body wants him to without worrying. On the other hand, what this body wants is annoying and bad and frustrating—see case in point, lunchtime. 

“You may act however you wish, and you need not worry or feel ashamed. I will keep us safe,” Lan Zhan murmurs. “Is that what you want?”

Yes. Yes, gods, yes. 

“Lan Zhan,” he whines. “Lan Zhan.”

“Answer honestly. Now, Wei Ying.”

“Yes. Yes, I—” Wei Wuxian squirms, turning his face out of the pillows so he can speak clearly. “Are you sure? That’s okay? I don’t want to be bad. I don’t want to upset you.”

“You are not bad. You will not be bad. You will be doing exactly as I have asked and acting on your impulses.” Lan Zhan licks a strip up the side of his neck. “Like a good boy.”

Wei Wuxian shivers, clenching down around the hard knot of Lan Zhan held within himself.

“But you will listen to me,” Lan Zhan adds, “or I will make you listen. Is that alright?”

Wei Wuxian nods frantically. “Please, yes, I’d—I want that, please.”

“Mn. You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

“Yes—yes yes yes, and you do, too.”

Lan Zhan nods, digging his chin into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “I know. No more control, Wei Ying. It is unnecessary. I am here. Do what you want.”

What Wei Wuxian wants is, for the time being, simple enough: sex. Lan Zhan is more than happy to provide another three rounds that afternoon—really, his refractory period in rut is incredible!—before he has to peel himself away to prepare dinner. This is fine, for about twenty whole minutes. Then Wei Wuxian’s skin is crawling again. There’s a hollow ache below his navel.

“Lan Zhan,” he sighs, wallowing in the blankets. “Want you.”

“After dinner.”

Wei Wuxian wants to riot. He should not. It would be annoying, and more over-the-top than even his usual, and it would upset Lan Zhan. After all, his husband is only trying to look out for him—for them—and Wei Wuxian would be a fool to complain about it. 

But. 

But Lan Zhan said.

“I don’t want dinner,” Wei Wuxian says, watching Lan Zhan’s reaction carefully. He doesn’t so much as turn his head in Wei Wuxian’s direction, which is terribly rude of him. His face is so pretty. Wei Wuxian misses it already.

“It does not matter,” Lan Zhan decides, pouring their tea. “You will eat.”

“Hmmm.”

Wei Wuxian wonders, really, how far he can push this. 

“I am going to get food, now,” Lan Zhan announces, pulling on his daytime robes. He hasn’t bathed. He’s going to reek of sex, of Wei Wuxian; it’s a viscerally delighting thought. “Prepare the bath for us.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” Wei Wuxian sits up, frowning. He doesn’t want his alpha wandering around out there, in rut, all alone. He’s so sexy. Someone will definitely flirt with him, no matter how much he smells like Wei Wuxian’s. Territorial claws hook themselves between his ribs, and he narrows his eyes. “Lan Zhan, you can’t go.”

“I will return soon.”

Wei Wuxian rolls out of bed, wincing—his muscles are not thrilled with this new level of exertion. He places himself stubbornly between Lan Zhan and the door, which is, if he pauses to think about it, bad. Why would he want to keep Lan Zhan trapped here? What kind of a mate does that make him? Why is he so clingy, so possessive, so—

He grinds his teeth. Lan Zhan said it was okay. Lan Zhan said to do what he wanted. Lan Zhan said, so this is Wei Wuxian obeying, this is Wei Wuxian being good, actually. 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan looks sympathetically at him, reaching out to cup his face. “I will be back. I would not abandon you.”

Wei Wuxian huffs, backing out of Lan Zhan’s hold. “No, you won’t, because you’re staying here.”

“We need food. I am going to get it.” He reaches for Wei Wuxian, again, and Wei Wuxian tosses his head. Lan Zhan’s voice sharpens as he says, “Wei Ying. Stop this and let me hold you.”

Wei Wuxian grumbles but obeys, allowing Lan Zhan to cradle his face between two warm palms. His pinkies brush the edges of Wei Wuxian’s jaw, press into the swollen scent glands there, and—oh. He leans forward, suddenly greedy, and smears his scent over Lan Zhan’s shoulders and neck. 

“Good boy,” Lan Zhan murmurs, lowering his head so Wei Wuxian can mark his hair and face, too. “I belong to you. I’ll return to you.”

“Promise,” Wei Wuxian says, heedless of how demanding it makes him.

Lan Zhan holds his face carefully, marking him in return—slow, steady drags of his jaw along Wei Wuxian’s skin and hair. “I promise. Ten minutes, no more. You will stay here.”

So Wei Wuxian stays, and he prepares the bath for them. It will be good to feel clean, he thinks, considering he’s sticky pretty much everywhere at this point. It might also help with his achy muscles. He slaps a few warming talismans on the side to heat it up, then goes to rearrange the nest. Lan Zhan took the used towels with him, when he left—hopefully he’ll return with a clean batch. 

Dinnertime is exactly as pleasant as Wei Wuxian imagined it would be—which is to say, not at all.

“I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to!” Wei Wuxian wails, with all the self-control and dignity of a toddler. He hides himself under the table and shrieks when Lan Zhan reaches for him. “I’m—not—hungry! Lan Zhan! You’re being mean!”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan confirms, yanking him out by his ankle. “Very mean.”

“I want Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian howls, kicking in Lan Zhan’s general direction, which perhaps seems like a contradiction—but it is not!! Wei Wuxian wants Lan Zhan fucking him, not Lan Zhan making him eat and bathe and sleep. Frustration and impatience (and exhaustion; he’s so tired and so unable to stop) writhe beneath his skin, and they need somewhere to go before they split him apart. He directs them out: at the floorboards, at the table, at darling Lan Zhan who isn’t giving him what he wants. “Lan Zhan Lan Zhan Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan slams him, none-too-gently, into the floorboards. He straddles Wei Wuxian’s hips and presses his shoulders down, a growl rattling in his chest. Wei Wuxian settles, however momentarily, and bares his throat with a pleased whine. Lan Zhan’s weight is firm and comforting against the swell of Wei Wuxian’s cock, and he tilts up into it; surely Lan Zhan will fuck him now? 

“After dinner,” Lan Zhan says, because he is the world’s most stubborn creature, and Wei Wuxian’s frustration bubbles over to fury. He thinks, briefly, about choking it back. He knows it’s irrational and foolish and any number of unpleasant adjectives, but—

But Lan Zhan said he could handle his omega without holding back. He should get what he asked for.

“You—you—! If you’re not going to fuck me, then get off and let me handle it myself,” Wei Wuxian demands, baring his teeth. When Lan Zhan looks impassively at him and moves not at all, he snarls. That earns him a surprised blink, at least, which is gratifying. 

It also earns him a sharp swat to the side of his leg, which is not. 

“Lan Zhan!” he bellows. “I am upset!”

How that’s for clear communication, huh?!

“You are allowed to be upset,” Lan Zhan says, reaching up to untie his forehead ribbon. “You are not allowed to neglect your health because of it. Hands.”

“I’m not neglecting my health, don’t be ridiculous! Skipping one meal is hardly going to kill me,” he scoffs.

“Hands, Wei Ying. I will not ask again.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian spits. 

Lan Zhan does not ask again. He reaches forward, seizing one of Wei Wuxian’s wrists and wrapping it neatly with the ribbon. This is a crime for which he does not go unpunished—Wei Wuxian yanks his wrist towards himself, bringing Lan Zhan’s hand with it, and then leans up to chomp teeth against the corded muscles of his mate’s forearm. Lan Zhan yanks back, glowering at him, and his stomach sizzles with dark delight. 

When Lan Zhan stands, he knots his fingers into Wei Wuxian’s hair and drags him up, too. Wei Wuxian hisses, wincing, but the pain is hardly a deterrent—if anything, it sends more of his blood rushing south. If Lan Zhan really wants them to get through dinner, he should be more careful; of course, at this point, Wei Wuxian thinks he would find anything his husband did arousing. He’s just that horny! 

Lan Zhan grips his elbow, bruisingly tight, and spins him around. In retaliation, Wei Wuxian heaves himself backwards and sends them both crashing into the wall. His weight hits Lan Zhan’s chest with enough force to knock the breath from him, although he’s careful not to accidentally stomp on any toes—he doesn’t actually want to hurt his poor husband.

His poor husband has no such qualms.

Lan Zhan wrenches his arms behind his back, and Wei Wuxian yelps at the sudden stretch and strain. His wrists are bound quickly and efficiently, ribbon lacing up his forearms. He struggles against it just to feel the bite of silk against his skin, to feel the way it cages him in, keeps him small and close and solid. Then Lan Zhan shoves him to his knees again, and Wei Wuxian growls irritably at him. 

“I have not been rough enough with you,” Lan Zhan decides. He pauses, waiting for Wei Wuxian to agree or disagree. Wei Wuxian growls more loudly, his chest humming with the noise—it’s as hearty an agreement as he can make. “My mistake. There will be no more disobedience, after this.”

Lan Zhan crouches beside him, placing a hand between his shoulders and shoving. Wei Wuxian fights him, but this body has always been weaker than Lan Zhan’s, and it doesn’t stand a chance. He’s forced down, folding over his knees until his forehead touches the floor—Lan Zhan’s strength is inescapable and unrelenting and absolutely thrilling. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, sore and full. His balls are damp with slick.

Some part of him—small and quiet, but growing quickly—wants to roll over and expose his tender underbelly. 

He swears, instead, and yanks his wrists against the ribbon until it stings. “Lan Zhan, you’re a brute, you know that? Pushing your poor omega around like this—what would everyone say if they knew their precious Hanguang-jun acted this way in private?” 

“Quiet,” Lan Zhan says. He stands, beginning to shed his robes, and Wei Wuxian risks a glance over his shoulder. When Lan Zhan catches his eye, his jaw tightens. “Do not move.”

Wei Wuxian makes a thoughtful little noise. 

“Do not,” Lan Zhan repeats. 

Really, it’s tempting to test him, but at the same time—at the same time, Wei Wuxian is getting exactly what he wanted, isn’t he? Lan Zhan’s definitely about to fuck him; why else would he be stripping? So he wins, technically, and there’s no reason to nag his long-suffering mate anymore. 

Then again, there’s no reason not to, either.

Yawning, he flops onto his side to regard Lan Zhan. It’s not very comfortable, with his arms held behind him the way they are, but the incensed look in Lan Zhan’s eyes is very much worth it. “Lan Zhan,” he whines, “won’t you hurry up already?”

Lan Zhan yanks off the last of his robes and then steps forward, his face a storm of fury and his scent crackling spice-sharp with anger. He grabs Wei Wuxian, bodily lifting him before depositing him onto his knees again. One hand grips his hair and shoves, pressing his face to the floor hard enough to hurt. Wei Wuxian’s heart thunders in his throat. He arches his back, pressing up against Lan Zhan with the beginnings of a beguiling purr.

“Present,” Lan Zhan orders, and Wei Wuxian has to pause to think about that for a hot second. Impatient, Lan Zhan seizes hold of hips and yanks them up. The position—face down, ass up—is hardly new to him, but it feels devastatingly perfect at the moment. It’s humiliating, and weak, and staggeringly vulnerable. “Stay.”

Wei Wuxian thinks he just might, this time. If he can get Lan Zhan to fuck him this way—mm, even the thought makes the empty space between his legs clench. 

Then Lan Zhan swats him—once, twice, three times, the flat of his palm a hot crack of skin across Wei Wuxian’s ass—and there are much more current things to focus on. Namely: “Ow! Lan Zhan, ow ow ow! What was that for?” 

“You know perfectly well what that was for,” Lan Zhan says. 

“I don’t,” Wei Wuxian says, sniffing. (He very much does.) “You’ll have to enlighten me.”

“With pleasure.” Lan Zhan kneels up beside him, one hand snaking beneath Wei Wuxian’s stomach to hold him in place. The other hand comes down against his ass again, several times over, hard and fast, until Wei Wuxian is gasping. When Lan Zhan pauses it’s only to say, “Count.”

“Lan Zhan!”

Another strike—this one aimed at the tender curve of his thigh. “Twenty swats,” Lan Zhan decides, “and they do not begin until you count them.”

Wei Wuxian counts very enthusiastically, after that. 

By the fifth swat, Wei Wuxian is heartily howling his protests (although he takes care not to safeword, because the last thing he wants is for Lan Zhan to actually stop) and feeling intensely grateful for the silencing talisman Lan Zhan had plastered to the doors before lunch. Lan Zhan always seems bigger, this way, more immovable and inescapable. He has become the only thought in Wei Wuxian’s mile-a-minute mind.

By the tenth swat, Wei Wuxian’s knees are growing sore and his skin feels stretched tight around his bones. Lan Zhan keeps him here, keeps him present, draws him back to here and now and this with every flare of pain. He’s breathing hard, and less able to talk because of it—although he still gives it his best shot, well-aware of how much Lan Zhan likes to hear him beg for mercy. 

By the fifteenth swat, he’s realized that he’s starting to drift. The pain is the only sharp thing around him, and even that has started to fade into the background. He leans into the drift, desperate for it—for reprieve. Lan Zhan is here. Lan Zhan is taking care of him. He doesn’t have to fight or claw or demand what he needs; Lan Zhan will give it to him. Lan Zhan always gives him what he needs. His words falter off, then, replaced by gasps and whines.

By the twentieth swat, Wei Wuxian’s skin is hot and sore and he’s trembling. His breath comes ragged and fast. Slick rolls down his thighs to puddle beneath his knees, and his cock is flushed a vibrant red. He’s feeling floaty and immaterial in the absence of pain, and he can’t get his body to quit squirming—couldn’t if he tried. Fortunately, Lan Zhan seems to recognize that this squirming is a sign of helplessness and not of disobedience, because he doesn’t demand a stop to it. 

Instead, he hums his approval and drops a kiss against Wei Wuxian’s spine. “So,” he says, brusque, although the gentle way he strokes over Wei Wuxian’s lower back betrays him. “You do know how to obey.”

Wei Wuxian whines, his fingers curling helplessly behind his back. 

“Answer me.”

Fingers brush, threateningly, over the scorching swell of his rump.

For once, it’s hard to find words—his tongue feels thick and heavy—but he wants to be good, he wants to show Lan Zhan he can be good. The threat of another spanking is also, he will not deny, very motivating. “Ye-es, Lan Zhan! I do, I do, uh-huh.”

“Then I expect you to do so from now on, or we will be revisiting this position. Do you understand?”

Wei Wuxian nods frantically before remembering to use his words. “Yes! Yep, yeah, yes.”

“I’m not sure you do.” Lan Zhan stands, and Wei Wuxian begins to drop back into a safe huddle on the floor. “Did I tell you you could move?”

Ass right back up in the air. 

“Stay there until I’m finished.” 

Lan Zhan steps behind him, and Wei Wuxian has only a moment to revel in his victory (he so totally got Lan Zhan to fuck him before dinner!) before his cock slides home in one strong push. It stings, but only slightly; his heat keeps him loose and wet enough to take this, to take anything Lan Zhan gives him and then some. His husband fucks him gloriously, ruthlessly, driving in deep and hard with every thrust. Bright spots of pleasure flare in Wei Wuxian’s belly, and his slick drools out from around Lan Zhan every time he pulls back. 

Nails bite into the skin of his hips, his back, his neck. Teeth press bruises into his shoulders and the knobs of his spine. Every push forward brings Lan Zhan’s hips flush with the inflamed skin of his ass, chafing there until he cries out. His thighs tremble with the effort of keeping himself—and Lan Zhan, who’s bearing down with most of his not-inconsiderable weight—upright. Sweat beads along his chest and shoulders, damping along his hairline. When he licks his lips he tastes salt. 

Lan Zhan comes with a snarl, digging his teeth into the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck. He drapes himself over Wei Wuxian’s back, chest heaving, and one of his hands snakes back to press their hips as close as possible. It skirts, very pointedly, around Wei Wuxian’s own neglected cock. His inner walls flutter frantically around Lan Zhan’s knot as it begins to swell, locking them together.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, “Lan Zhan, please, please, I need—”

“Quiet,” Lan Zhan interrupts, and Wei Wuxian snaps his mouth shut around a pleading whine. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

Lan Zhan, mercifully, does not make him stay in his presenting position for the duration of their knotting. He rolls them onto their sides, tucking Wei Wuxian close to him. There is a suspiciously sticky squelch beneath Wei Wuxian’s hip, and his face flames. He hopes slick comes off of wood. Maybe they should have waterproofed the floor, too. 

“Look at you,” Lan Zhan mutters, reaching between them and pressing his fingers to the stretched rim of Wei Wuxian’s hole. Wei Wuxian throws his head back against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, whimpering pitifully—perhaps that, at least, will win him some sympathy from his husband. “You need it so much.”

Wei Wuxian nods earnestly, because yes yes yes he does, thank you for noticing.

Lan Zhan pets hands across his hip, his side, the lean stretch of his belly. Wei Wuxian rocks his hips back, trying for some friction against his mate’s knot, until fingers clamp tightly on his hip to stop him. More fingers tangle into his hair, yanking his head back so Lan Zhan can kiss messily along his jaw and neck. He suckles the sensitive skin of Wei Wuxian’s scent glands into his mouth, drawing oil out while Wei Wuxian writhes. His scent is sharp with desperation, laced thick with the warm wash of mating pheromones. 

“If I let you come,” Lan Zhan muses against his skin, “will you obey me?”

“Yes! Yes, I will, I’ll listen so well, Lan Zhan, please.” At this point, he’d do just about anything Lan Zhan asked him. He’s so hard it hurts. The pleasant hum of his arousal is frothing up into a painful itch-burn-ache strong enough to drive away the soft, floaty feeling he wants so desperately to keep. “I need it. Lan Zhan, I need it, c’mon, please please please—”

A warm, calloused palm wraps around his cock and tugs. At the same time, Lan Zhan hitches his hips forward to nestle his knot more securely against Wei Wuxian’s walls. Lightning shatters up Wei Wuxian’s spine. He comes with a broken moan, arching his back and straining against his restraints. He comes down several seconds later shivering, panting, and blinking tears out of his eyes. The relief of it is overwhelming. For these few, precious seconds he wants for nothing, and he is so light and so quiet and so tired.

“Good boy,” Lan Zhan murmurs, petting his arm. “Wei Ying, sweetheart, good boy. Is that better?”

Wei Wuxian burrows back against his husband in a pleasant daze, blinking at the far wall. The whole world is a blur at the edges, warm and out of focus. He spasms around an aftershock, trembling, and then lets himself go limp again. 

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian lets his eyes shut and breathes. It’s peaceful behind his eyelids. He likes it very much. He knows, in some vague way, that he’s gone under hard. He has no desire to come back up. He’s going to stay like this forever, he thinks—or at least for the rest of his heat, so he doesn’t have to deal with such constant, overbearing need. 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice sharpens with worry, which Wei Wuxian could handle, only then he goes and tries to sit up. 

As the movement jostles the join of their bodies, Wei Wuxian cries out. The noise is half pain because ow, connected, and half fear because why is his alpha trying to get away from him? He scrabbles, gripping Lan Zhan’s forearm to keep him nearby. Instinctively, he knows that if Lan Zhan tries to leave him now it will hurt, it will damage, it will make him bleed and cry and suffer. He whimpers—a warbling, pathetic sound designed to plead with his alpha’s instincts and keep him near. 

“Oh, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan, good boy that he is, immediately lays back down and nestles up against his back. “I am not going anywhere. Shh, I’m here. I will stay here as long as you need. I am sorry; I did not mean to frighten you.”

Wei Wuxian relaxes quickly, once it becomes clear Lan Zhan isn’t trying to get away. Why would he, when he has Wei Wuxian so perfectly knotted and submissive? Wei Wuxian has been good, hasn’t he?

...hasn’t he?

“You were so good,” Lan Zhan says, because he is really the perfect mate, and Wei Wuxian lets go of a shaky, relieved sigh. “Yes, you were. You were so beautiful and you made me feel so good. I am so pleased with you, my Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, again, baring his throat in supplication. Lan Zhan mouths his skin without teeth, licking soft wet stripes beneath his jaw. He can smell his own scent on Lan Zhan’s lips: citrus, cinnamon, sweat and semen and well-loved omega. 

“Good boy,” Lan Zhan murmurs, “good boy, Wei Ying, you’re very good. Are you okay? Are you feeling good?”

Wei Wuxian nods—a tiny little thing, so he doesn’t bump Lan Zhan with his chin. He feels good. He feels so good, safe and satisfied and sleepy. He doesn’t ever want to move again. Maybe he’ll just have Lan Zhan carry him everywhere from now on. 

“I’m glad,” Lan Zhan says, his voice warm. “You deserve to feel good, my love. You were so patient with me.” A kiss to his ear, to the space beneath it, to the back of his neck. “How far under are you?”

Wei Wuxian is, like, so far under. So far, in fact, that explaining this seems out of his grasp. An explanation requires a lot of words and coherency and thoughts and things that Wei Wuxian just generally does not have (or want to have) right now. He nods again, and figures that that will be an adequate enough explanation. 

“That’s very far,” Lan Zhan says fondly as he rubs wide circles across Wei Wuxian’s belly. There’s no cum on his skin to make a mess of, this time—he’s come so much today, he simply doesn’t have anymore to give. Lan Zhan does not have this problem. His cum pools, hot and wet, inside of Wei Wuxian. “Let me know if you start to feel bad. Can you do that?”

Wei Wuxian nods, again, and lets Lan Zhan cradle him there, in that quiet safe space, until he’s soft enough to pull out. Wei Wuxian nearly panics when he does, whining desperately at him because his absence means that Wei Wuxian has to come back up, has to think, has to want again.

“Shh, I’m here, it’s alright.” Lan Zhan strokes his hair, pushing him back down when he tries to squirm himself upright. When he speaks next, his voice is firm, and it eases some of Wei Wuxian’s fear. He doesn’t have to worry as long as Lan Zhan is telling him what to do. “Stay there. I am going to get something, and I will be right back.”

Wei Wuxian rolls onto his back but otherwise stays, straining to watch Lan Zhan cross their room. He gathers a washcloth, and soap, and something from their bedside table. When he returns, he parts Wei Wuxian’s legs—with some effort; Wei Wuxian does not want to open them and feel emptier than he already does—to sit between them. Then he shows Wei Wuxian what he’s holding. 

“I’m going to put this in,” he explains. It’s one of their plugs—smooth white jade, a little smaller than Lan Zhan’s knot. Upon seeing it, Wei Wuxian eagerly spreads his legs, and one of Lan Zhan’s hands comes to brace his thigh. “Be still. I need to warm it up, first. Do not move until I tell you that you may.”

Wei Wuxian tries, very hard, to hold still as Lan Zhan rolls the plug in the semen-slick mixture between his legs—obstinately, he does it to warm and lubricate the jade, but Wei Wuxian is certain he has other (much less honorable) intentions as well. When he finally, finally slides the plug in, Wei Wuxian tips his head back and groans. It isn’t so much a pleasure as it is a relief. He is comfortably full and tight around it. He doesn’t have to worry about other alphas filling him, or about being left alone, or about working to get Lan Zhan back in him as soon as physically possible. 

“There we go,” Lan Zhan says, stroking the inside of his thigh and watching him with satisfaction. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Wei Wuxian purrs his approval—a short, staccato rattle in his chest that has Lan Zhan smiling. He rolls onto his belly when Lan Zhan prompts him to, and Lan Zhan unbinds his wrists. He cleans the red abrasions that the ribbon left behind and slathers them with lotion, then wipes up the sweat on his skin and the mess between his thighs. Wei Wuxian winces as the cloth brushes over the sore skin of his ass, and Lan Zhan hums sympathetically. He brings out a herbal balm and coats the skin there; it’s an instant, cooling relief that has Wei Wuxian sighing and blinking back tears again. He doesn’t know why he’s so teary. He’s not sad, he’s just—

He’s just living, here, cracked open under Lan Zhan’s love and care.

Lan Zhan urges him to sit up once the balm has soaked in, and he does so. The plug settles as a comfortable and heavy weight between his legs. “Okay?” Lan Zhan asks, cupping his face. 

Wei Wuxian nods and tries very hard not to sniffle.

“Are you dropping?”

Wei Wuxian pauses to consider this. He’s sore, and tired, and maybe a little bit emotionally fraught, but—but it’s not bad. He doesn’t feel bad. He still feels loose and syrupy and dizzy. If he is dropping, it’s slow and inconsequential compared to all the contentment and love he’s currently hoarding in his heart. He shakes his head.

“Okay. Tell me if that changes.” Lan Zhan scoops him up, wrapping him up in a sheet before carrying him to the table. “You will eat now.”

Wei Wuxian nods, reaching for one of the bowls. Lan Zhan beats him to it, dragging it closer and picking up a piece of mapo tofu. He holds it to Wei Wuxian’s lips, and Wei Wuxian obediently accepts it. The spice is good—strong and biting—and he’s calm enough now that it doesn’t sit unpleasantly in his stomach the way it would have at lunchtime. He manages to finish the entire bowl, as well a water chestnut osmanthus cake. 

Between himself and Lan Zhan, they down an entire kettle of tea over the course of dinner, which Wei Wuxian thinks is quite reasonable considering how many fluids they’ve been producing. To his surprise, he’s still sated after dinner. He’s fervently glad. It’s not that he doesn’t love sex (he does, very much so) but he is, frankly, fucking exhausted—and they still have another two days to get through!

Eager to accept the break while he can, he lets his head rest on Lan Zhan’s shoulder as Lan Zhan finishes his own meal. After dinner, Lan Zhan deposits him in the bath. He slides into the water after Wei Wuxian, slotting him between his legs, and begins to wet his hair. They wash each other slowly, lazily, trading soft kisses until their fingers begin to prune. The hot water eases the ache from Wei Wuxian’s muscles, and he all but melts into the mattress once Lan Zhan sets him down there. 

“Will you be able to sleep now?” Lan Zhan asks, petting the small of his back with gentle fingertips. 

Actually, Wei Wuxian thinks—actually, yeah. He nods, burying his face against a pillow and reaching to drag Lan Zhan down beside him. Lan Zhan gently tugs his hair to turn his face to the side, so he doesn’t smother himself, and kisses the tip of his nose. 

“I will take the plug out before you sleep,” he murmurs.

Wei Wuxian whines, grabbing for Lan Zhan’s shoulder when he tries to sit up, and manages to fumble out some actual words. “Nooo, Lan Zhan, no no no.”

“It will only take me a moment, love. Be patient.”

“I want it,” Wei Wuxian says, his fingers skidding over Lan Zhan’s damp skin as he tries to haul him back in. “Leave it.”

“All night?”

Wei Wuxian really doubts his libido will wait that long, but he nods anyway. If Lan Zhan takes the plug out, he’s sure his body will realize that it’s not currently being filled and throw a fit about it. He’ll be desperate and squirming within the half-hour, and he doesn’t want that right now. He wants to rest in this soft warmth just a little while longer. “Yeah. Feels good.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan lays back down, reaching to pet Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “If it will help you rest easier, we will leave it in.”

So Wei Wuxian falls asleep warm and relaxed and full. When he wakes several hours later, overheated and needy despite the pressure inside, Lan Zhan is there to fuck him slow and sweet. It feels so good he cries, and Lan Zhan rocks him back to sleep after. The next two days pass in a blur much the same: breakfast, sex, lunch, sex, dinner, bath, sex, sleep. It is exhilarating. It is exhausting. It is an experience, Wei Wuxian thinks, that brings him much closer to this new body than he’s ever been before.

The third morning, he wakes up after the sun has risen and does not immediately feel an urge to impale himself on his husband’s cock. He blinks his eyes open and rubs grit from them, licking the sour-stale taste of old saliva from his teeth. The nest is rumpled and warm around him. Lan Zhan is still sleeping at his side—the poor thing is almost as exhausted as Wei Wuxian is, and both of their sleeping schedules have been warped around their bodies’ more pressing needs. His side rises and falls with each breath, and his fingers tangle into his own hair where it pools around him. He’s adorable. 

Wei Wuxian reaches out, resting a hand on his ribs just to feel the movement of his breathing, and Lan Zhan stirs. Groggily, he fumbles a hand towards Wei Wuxian’s face. “Wei Ying?”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Wei Wuxian catches his hand, kisses his palm. The smell of his rut had faded yesterday afternoon. He smells softer, now, gentler, like sun-warmed sandalwood. “Go back to sleep, gege.”

“Need me?”

Wei Wuxian laughs, rubbing his cheek along Lan Zhan’s hand. “I need you all the time, but I don’t need you to fuck me right now, if that’s what you’re asking. I think my heat’s over. You can rest now.”

Lan Zhan tugs their joined hands closer, inhaling the scent of his skin before nodding, mollified, and tucking his face into the blankets again. Wei Wuxian curls up around him, tangling their legs and smoothing one hand through his hair as he dozes. It’s a rarity for Lan Zhan to be asleep while Wei Wuxian is awake, and he’s going to savor every moment of it. 

Eventually, however, his bladder urges him out of the nest. His muscles throb when they stretch, and he bites back a groan. He’s sore everywhere, and most of all between his legs. The pain grounds him in this body and forces him to pay attention to it, but it’s not—it’s not bad, like maybe it would have been once. So maybe this heat shouldn’t have belonged to him, but he’d like to think he did it justice anyway. Everything he did throughout belonged to him. Everything he thought throughout belonged to him. 

In that way, maybe, this body feels like his. Its shape is not quite right, nor its scent or the strange things that happen within it—but the actions he takes with it are his, as are the thoughts he thinks with its brain and the things he feels with its skin and the smile he shapes with its face. How deeply entwined they are, body and mind. 

But those are deep thoughts, for so early in the morning, and they still leave him slightly unsteady (though the discomfort isn’t as bad, now, as it was mere days ago). Something to talk with Lan Zhan about later, perhaps. For now he blinks his musings away and goes to pee and then settles back into his nest, with his mate, and inhales the sandalwood and cinnamon scent of home. 

Notes:

thank u guys so much for waiting patiently on this chapter (and for all ur support on the other chapters, too)!! i hope you’ve enjoyed this lil fic :D