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His vision swims and the characters on the scroll look so much like incomprehensible scribbles that they might as well have been written in another language. Fingers scramble across the tabletops uselessly, nails dragging through the ridges on the surface. Scattered whimpers and muffled moans echo through the air, muted enough that only those inside the pavilion could hear them.
“Finish today’s punishment,” the voice behind him rumbles, the deep tone resonating through his nerves and sparking his senses alight.
“Laoshi,” Wei Wuxian breathes raggedly, unable to think straight. The hard chest pressed against him is robbing him of any sense and coherency, stealing any chance of clarity. Body warmth seeps through their bodies, heating up his sweating skin even more.
He says again, pleadingly, “Laoshi. Please.”
“I will not repeat what I said,” the man says. It should be insulting, the way his voice remains even and steady, not revealing even a hint of anything. But Wei Wuxian knows where to find the tell, the one thing that will betray the sheer want coursing through their veins.
He knows that if he looks back, molten gold eyes will stare right at him, ready to devour at the next sign of weakness.
Wei Wuxian exhales through gritted teeth, attempting to stop his hips from undulating into the friction, the fingers inside him are very insistent and encompassing. Another hand is pressing into his throbbing clit and drawing nonsensical circles, its rhythm unpredictable that the pleasure lies on a seesaw of sensation.
He forces his own hand to move and finish inscribing the final set of characters to complete his punishment for today. The rules of the Lan clan will be scarred into the back of his eyes if this continues, although that may have been the intention of the discipline in the first place.
A sigh escapes his lips, part pleasure and part resignation. Despite his current, or upcoming, status in the Lan clan, he still cannot escape from the endless slew of punishments.
Not that it is much of a punishment, considering his situation right now.
Once he’s at the final column, the fingers inside his pulsating pussy move, retreating before thrusting with an incriminating slap of skin, nearly shoving Wei Wuxian off the comfortable lap he’s been sitting on for the last few hours.
“Laoshi,” he whines. “Be gentle, be gentle. I am nothing but a weak mortal, so fragile and vulnerable.” A choked whimper escapes him as the man doesn’t even seem to hear him, merely resuming the tormenting pace and casually dismissing any of his words as though they were insignificant.
When his brush finally tips over to that last stroke, splattering an ink stain on the scroll, the fingers inside of him speed up, releasing loud and scandalous squelches with every slide. Wei Wuxian pushes the stack of papers off the table carelessly; they’ll probably crumple but that’s the better option than having to redo everything because they’d gotten dirtied in the following proceedings.
After all, laoshi always told him he makes such a mess.
“Good, you’ve finished your punishment,” the man behind him comments, apparently indifferent that Wei Wuxian merely discarded said papers of punishment with ease.
The movements on his clit become more purposeful, drawing tighter circles around the pulsing bundle of nerves. The dual pleasure drowns him through the inevitability of his climax.
“Have I—Have I been good, laoshi?” he asks, panting heavily. Sweat pours down his forehead and he can taste the salt of his skin on his tongue, a rather dizzying addition to the amount of come he had swallowed earlier.
Wei Wuxian hunches over the table and writhes jerkily, unsure whether to escape the relentless stimulation or dive for more. His veins are lit with desire and need, rushing beneath his skin and dancing along with the qi that’s never been more alive apart from fighting. A continuous stream of sounds pry free from his mouth, uncontrollable and steadily getting louder as he nears the peak.
“Yes,” the man replies, laving his tongue on Wei Wuxian’s bare neck, nipping at the thin flesh and leaving marks everywhere. “A-Ying has been good, so good for laoshi.”
Those words send him over the edge, pushing him off the cliff he’s been climbing towards. It feels like a free fall—falling off his sword, jumping down a tree, leaping into the lakes of Lotus Pier—with strong arms to catch him when he lands.
When the world stops spinning, he finds himself cleaned and dressed appropriately, tucked into the folds of plain white robes. His heart is still erratic but calming down as he breathes, unconsciously imitating the rise and fall of the chest he’s resting on.
Wei Wuxian looks up through his lashes, a sudden shyness overtaking him despite all that they’ve already done.
Hanguang-jun’s amused gaze stares back, golden and heated. “You are still too loud.”
Wei Wuxian tries to sit upright in indignation but the man simply guides him back to lay on his chest like a baby.
“Aiyo,” Wei Wuxian complains, yet absolutely delighted, “you truly have no mercy, laoshi. And in public too, you have no shame at all.” He points a figure at the esteemed and highly-respected cultivator within the Jianghu. “How would the people react if they knew you were like this? Preying upon innocent young people like me.”
“They know you are mine,” Lan Wangji states simply. “You are mine to cherish and to take care of. They cannot do anything to oppose me.”
Wei Wuxian’s hands fly up to cover his reddening face. “I seriously can’t look at you when you’re being like this.” He peeks through the gaps between his fingers. “Warn me before you say things like that! I don’t think my heart can handle it.”
“Very well,” Hanguang-jun says. “You will have all the time to get used to being my wife after the wedding.”
At this point, Wei Wuxian can feel the heat radiating from his face. He’s not so thick-skinned as to remain cool after hearing the sincerity and sheer affection in those words.
“Why did you have to push the date so far, anyway?” Wei Wuxian juts out his lower lip. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned it and it’s not going to be the last time either. He’s never looked at someone so ludicrously as he did when Lan Wangji announced that he wasn’t eloping and was actually going to hold an actual wedding for the both of them.
A considering expression passes through Hanguang-jun’s face. Wei Wuxian watches him think and gather his words with great interest. Despite the rumors of him being older than the rest of the elders in the Lan clan combined—which Wei Wuxian files in the back of his mind for later musings; he doesn’t think it might be so far from the truth considering his lineage—he actually looks within his mid-thirties, even late twenties.
Cultivators, due to harnessing qi throughout their body, naturally have a slow-aging rate once they reach adulthood. However, Hanguang-jun seems to take it to the next level.
But again, having dragon heritage sure does have its perks. His face is smooth as jade, not even wrinkles, either smile or frown lines, marring his face. The eyes betray his real age though, the years of wisdom and experience reflecting through the gold.
Wei Wuxian reaches for Lan Wangji’s hair, carding his fingers through the strands and roving over the area where his horns would protrude if he hadn’t been hiding them.
“There are still preparations we have to push through before I can marry you properly,” Lan Wangji explains. “Your body must be prepared thoroughly to, ahh, withstand consummating with someone of dragon blood.” He almost looks apologetic.
“I can handle anything you can give me,” Wei Wuxian says.
Hanguang-jun blinks, seemingly fond. “I know, A-Ying. That is why I chose you.”
“You’ve been holding back on me though,” Wei Wuxian accuses, patting the man’s hair neatly and resting his hands on the firm chest instead, sliding through the layers of silk.
“Because you need to practice your patience,” is the only reply he gets before he’s lifted into the air with ease, enclosed between Hanguang-jun’s arms like he weighs absolutely nothing.
Not for the first time, Wei Wuxian marvels at the famed Lan strength and surrenders to the urge of squeezing the muscles hidden beneath the clothes, corded and toned. Hanguang-jun weaves through the rows of tables and shelves before stepping out into the late afternoon, the sky gradually dipping into the evening darkness.
At this point, most of the guest disciples are gathered inside their own quarters with the Lan disciples deep in the middle of patrolling or chores. Only a scattered few can be seen strolling through the main paths, especially with the sect curfew nearing within a few hours.
Lan Wangji follows the main path into the guest disciple quarters where the Jiang sect has been settled. Once they arrive at the room he shares with Jang Cheng, Hanguang-jun knocks on the door and slides it open when nobody answers.
Jiang Cheng is nowhere to be found, although Wei Wuxian highly suspects that he’s with Nie Huaisang, probably off to prevent the latter from escaping his own punishment. All the better for Wei Wuxian, just to escape the side-eyes he’ll get for the marks. He’d had enough of Nie Huaisang’s “innocent” questions these past days; he doesn’t need to add Jiang Cheng’s ribbing to that.
Lan Wangji sets him down on the floor with his hands hovering over his waist, ready to sweep him off his feet if needed. Wei Wuxian doesn’t try to hide his smile—his laoshi spoils him so much.
He tells him just that. “You spoil me so much.”
“A-Ying deserves the world and everything else I can give him,” Hanguang-jun replies, serious as he always is.
Wei Wuxian circles his arms around the man and breathes in the scent of sandalwood and the slightest hint of fire. “You’re so sweet to me, gege. I might take advantage of it. What if I ask you for something very ridiculous next?”
“Then I will do my best to give it to you.” Hanguang-jun pulls him in and Wei Wuxian can feel a kiss landing on his head, sweet and soft. He steps back, immediately bereft of the warmth, and waves a hand in the air.
“See you tomorrow, future husband,” he says and watches Lan Wangji’s eyes go dark. They won’t be able to see each other for the rest of the night since his aforementioned future husband still has elder duties to complete and more preparations to oversee.
“Tomorrow,” Lan Wangji affirms, scanning Wei Wuxian from head to toe one more time, and walks out of the room, sliding the door closed behind him.
Once the sound of footsteps trail off, Wei Wuxian collapses onto the bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly. He’ll have to ensure he’s dressed accordingly before Jiang Cheng fetches him for dinner at the dining hall.
Wei Wuxian could usually care less about his appearance but the lesson was learned the hard way when he didn’t notice the string of bite marks lining his throat.
With his age and status in the Lan clan, the elders couldn’t tell off the legendary and immaculate Hanguang-jun for the impropriety. That didn’t stop them from leaving reminders about the rules on the Wall of Discipline.
Lan Xichen’s reaction was more hilarious though, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion. The sect leader had been present at dinner when Wei Wuxian entered and his smile literally faltered at the sight of him.
“Ah, Wei-gongzi,” he called when Wei Wuxian approached the table of the main family to offer his greetings. Although they had generations between them, as Wei Wuxian had found out recently, Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun could have passed off as brothers.
“Zewu-jun.” Wei Wuxian saluted, smiling widely. Lan Xichen’s temperament was so similar to Shijie that he couldn’t help feeling at ease with the sect leader’s presence. Two of the gentlest people in the world, truly. “You’ve been busy lately.”
“I have to make sure that the wedding preparations are coming smoothly,” Zewu-jun said with a returning smile. His eyes flickered below Wei Wuxian’s face for a second before meeting his gaze again, this time with a long-suffering hint to it.
“You should probably cover your neck, Wei-gongzi. My uncle will probably not appreciate a qi deviation with Hanguang-jun’s enthusiasm.” Zewu-jun then gestured to where he’s usually seatedwith the rest of the Jiang disciples. “Please enjoy your dinner.”
Wei Wuxian slapped a hand to his throat where he just registered the slightly stinging sensation. Jiang Cheng looked like he was about to throttle Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang hid behind his fan for the rest of the dinner. The stares from the other disciples were heavy but Wei Wuxian dismissed them with ease.
Unfortunately, he had to check his skin every now and then to make sure that all bruises and marks were hidden properly. Since they weren’t married yet, it could take a blow to Hanguang-jun’s reputation, although the cultivator himself stated that it didn’t bother him what the public thought of it.
It was only thanks to the Lan’s strict implementation of no gossiping that the fact that Hanguang-jun might have been defiling his bride-to-be weeks before the wedding hadn’t left the Cloud Recesses.
The door slams open, shocking Wei Wuxian out of his musings.
“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, nearly falling off the bed.
Jiang Cheng meets his gaze with wide eyes. “I didn’t realize you were back yet.” His expression turns sour. “I thought you’d be with your—” here, his face twists slightly, “—fiancee until after dinner.”
While Jiang Cheng doesn’t say a word about it, except for maybe a few arguments here and there, Wei Wuxian knows he’s still upset about him leaving the sect for marriage, especially not while he’s still handling his duties as head disciple. Shijie forced them to talk it out after throwing a few punches at each other.
Even though there are still times like this where Jiang Cheng gets in a mood, Wei Wuxian acknowledges that he just wants him to be happy.
Jiang Cheng is soft on the inside like that, despite his prickly exterior.
“No, he’s busy tonight. Elder duties, I suppose,” Wei Wuxian says, shaking his head and rising to his feet, slinging an arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Aiya, I’m so hungry, Jiang Cheng. Come feed me.”
Jiang Cheng pries him off his body, clicking his tongue. “What, your fiance didn’t feed you?” he mutters under his breath. “With how old he is, I’d expected him to nag you about proper meal times and feeding you on the regular.”
Wei Wuxian waves a hand in the air. “You just told me I was putting on weight yesterday.”
“Because with a future husband like Hanguang-jun, you should use it to feed yourself. Buy all the meat in Caiyi, if you’re hungry.” Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “But since you aren’t married yet, I suppose you’ll have to come with the rest of us mortals and suffer their bland meals.”
Wei Wuxian only laughs, evading Jiang Cheng’s jab at his chest while they head off to the dining hall.
The next days after that go a lot more hectic.
Wei Wuxian has tried to avoid most of the wedding planning, preferring to let Zewu-jun and Shijie—with a little bit of input, or subtle threats, from Yu-furen through letters—handle the bulk of it. They are incredibly terrifying and unsurprisingly efficient when working together.
He has also never seen two people argue about which red fabric looks best when paired with his complexion using only smiles and silent stares that never ended unless one gave up.
But there are still dress adjustments to make, which a part of Wei Wuxian likes because it meant having to see his Shijie enjoying herself, and books to read regarding dragons that Zewu-jun handed to him after the engagement announcement.
“It is only right to give this to you,” Zewu-jun said. “He had been looking for the right person for a long, long time. I’m glad that he found you now.”
It is still a strange feeling to have someone else support your happiness wholeheartedly without any other conditions. But it is something that Wei Wuxian is coming to learn and accept, especially with the help of the person who made him realize what it truly meant to belong.
Wei Wuxian reaches the final page of a rather intriguing manual written by one of the Lans who inherited the dragon blood. He stares into space for a moment before turning to the side meaningfully.
“So do you actually have two cocks and I was just meant to discover that on our wedding night or is this just a random cutsleeve fantasy thing?” Wei Wuxian observes carefully as the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears turn into an adorable shade of red. “I mean, I already knew you had one considering that I just had it in my mouth an hour ago, but does it turn into—I don’t know—two when you transform?”
“I intended to discuss it with you,” laoshi says. “It is part of the necessary preparations, but I wished to see if you would ask me about it.”
“To gauge my willingness to partake in it?” Wei Wuxian tilts his head. “You know I meant what I said before, right? Everything with you, laoshi.”
“You did say that, yes,” Lan Wangji replies. “However, A-Ying is still human. It is only natural for you to change your mind when apprehensive. I will not begrudge you that. Although, I suppose I should have expected you to do the opposite.”
Wei Wuxian sets aside the book and scoots over to Hanguang-jun’s side of the table, launching himself over the man. He is caught easily with a confident grasp and arranged to straddle his future husband’s lap.
Hanguang-jun tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. His gaze is heady, the creature lurking behind those molten gold eyes. “You are terrifying in your stubbornness and unpredictability, and all the more beautiful for it.”
“And you haven’t answered my question,” Wei Wuxian shoots back despite the warmth threatening to flood his cheeks.
“In human and half forms, I only have one which is used for the sole purpose of mating. In my full dragon, one is used for mating while the other is for reproduction.” Lan Wangji lowers his hand, traveling a path to Wei Wuxian’s abdomen. “And here, my seed will grow inside of you.”
“A-ahh,” Wei Wuxian breathes, mind blanking for a second. “Do you mean actual babies or dragon eggs? I’m good with both because why not, but how does it work?”
He should probably have asked this question way before but he had been too distracted to notice. Not that it mattered much; he’d bear Lan babies whether it may be through the natural way or emerging out of him fully grown.
“You are completely human,” Laoshi explains patiently. “My qi will automatically adjust to your nature; thus, our offsprings shall be born human. They will be taught the way of dragons once they are older.”
“What about you, then?” Wei Wuxian is curious.
“I was the opposite. My mother belonged to a distant clan who also bore dragon blood, so I had been born as one and taught to be human as I grew.”
Before, there had been several clans with the dragon heritage but as the years passed, the blood became diluted and only manifested with chance births. The rest of the cultivation world had thought the power died out and dragons were lost to mere tales of legends. However, the Lan clan, one of the most powerful and the only remaining sect to bear dragons within the main family line, knew otherwise.
Wei Wuxian had figured some of it out in the midst of his punishment. Laoshi has assigned himself to oversee it within the library pavilion. Things may have gotten a bit too heated than what was appropriate with Wei Wuxian being a brat, trying to rile up one of the only people who understood the way he thought and nurtured it, and Hanguang-jun being the way he is, so upright and pure that he wanted to see what it would take to make him lose all that control.
And he did, essentially, lose the control.
Wei Wuxian has the marks to prove it.
It took Wei Wuxian mouthing off one too many times for Lan Wangji to press him against a shelf and kiss him senseless until there was nothing for mischief left in his mind. The following days of punishment ran a similar course from then on; Wei Wuxian found himself being bent over any flat surface, biting his hand to stop himself from being too loud, and Hanguang-jun showing that there was definitely more to his indifferent exterior.
But they hadn’t gone all the way. Laoshi would always stop himself, or Wei Wuxian, before it got to that point.
As the days and weeks went by, they began treading into personal waters that didn’t entirely involve a sexual nature. It had been a bit strange at first considering that Wei Wuxian had only gone to Cloud Recesses for the guest lectures and Hanguang-jun had been one of the elders they had assigned to teach the disciples.
It was a marvel to be taught by an esteemed cultivator, known for always being where the chaos was, and even more so when Wei Wuxian discovered how they both held up in a fight against each other.
Wei Wuxian trails a hand down to his stomach, curling his fingers over Hanguang-jun’s as they hold him together. “Here,” he utters softly, “our child will grow here.”
“A-Ying will be a beautiful mother,” Lan Wangji says.
One thing led to another and now, they’re both engaged and marrying each other—that is, after a lot of discussions, negotiations amongst the elders, even more discussions, a hilarious incident with Lan Qiren, and a long process regarding the betrothal contract.
The days blur together into a dizzy haze of memories until Wei Wuxian wakes up and finally thinks to himself: ‘I’m getting married today’.
His preparation for the day consists mostly of Shijie fussing over him along with other disciples, both from the Jiang and the Lan sect. Shijie is the one to fix his hair, pinning it with the most gorgeous stick he’s ever seen, decorated with an intricate lotus.
“Oh, A-Xian,” she breathes out, covering her mouth with dainty hands. Shijie’s eyes are tearing up. “You look beautiful today. The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
Following that, he’s set to wear the several layer of robes, red upon red and covering him in heavy fabric. He had gone through several dress fitting just to achieve the bespoke look and the tailors in Caiyi definitely didn’t disappoint.
As he gazes at himself upon the mirror one last time before he puts on the veil—which is see-through enough that he can see the outlines of the people around him and even their faces when the light hit them properly—Wei Wuxian can barely recognize himself, his cheeks already hurting from smiling too much.
Excitement overflows in his chest and when he’s finally allowed to step out of the room so they can proceed to the wedding, he’s almost runs. Shijie has to grasp his arm to prevent him from doing just that.
His breath catches in his lungs, unable to escape, the moment he sees Lan Wangji dressed in red. He has always been aware of how gorgeous and otherworldly Hanguang-jun looks, his appearance rivalling that of a divine deity, but nothing prepares him for this kind of view.
Lan Wangji wearing wedding robes. Lan Wangji on the opposite side of him, ready to bow in front of the heavens and the earth.
A part of Wei Wuxian is glad about the veil because it shields how his eyes are red and shiny from the threat of tears.
During the wedding tea ceremony, it is only attended by their closest friends and family. In place of their parents’ places, their tablets have been arranged in their honor.
For Wei Wuxian, Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu had flown from Lotus Pier just in time for the wedding, seated beside Jiang Cheng and Shijie. As for Lan Wangji, Lan Qiren, who had declared Wei Wuxian to be the bane of his existence but also a fervent companion in pursuit of knowledge, and Zewu-jun had sat on the opposite side of the table.
It goes smoothly, smoother than Wei Wuxian had initially thought it would be, but he’s probably too distracted by the sight of Lan Wangji in robes.
They head to the main hall for the banquet and is greeted by the sight of welcoming and curious expressions.
Most guests, as Wei Wuxian knows, are only here to discover who it is exactly that caught the attention of the esteemed Hanguang-jun. After years of remaining a bachelor, a traveling bachelor at that, they wonder why it was Wei Wuxian, the head disciple from the Jiang sect, that finally pushed him into marriage.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t really care about those or the rumors that thave sprouted because of them. As long as he can marry Hanguang-jun, he’s happy to let those words bounce off his back.
The rest of the wedding banquet is a combination of familiar and new faces, greetings and gifts, dishes that his husband—husband!—feeds to him by hand, and the sheer volume of joy that he feels bubbling within his chest. Happiness soars through his veins, his cheeks hurting from the amount of smiling he’s doing, and he can’t help the overflow of affection for the person who bowed with him in front of the heavens and earth.
“Husband,” Wei Wuxian calls softly, caressing Hanguang-jun’s cheek as they head to the Jingshi. His new husband had swept him off his feet the moment it was polite to do so, earning cheers and catcalls from the audience. Wei Wuxian didn’t dare hold back his giddy laughter.
The main path is decorated with endless swathes of red fabric, red banners, red lanterns—everything red. It’s a stark contrast to the main blue and white theme of the Lan sect; the colors seem more vivid and bold, especially in the dimming light of the afternoon.
“Hmm,” Hanguang-jun hums in reply, briefly tightening his hold. His eyes had never left Wei Wuxian all throughout the wedding and even the banquet, only flicking away when greeting the other Lan elders and the Jiang family.
Lan Wangji opens the door to the Jingshi with a burst of qi and sets Wei Wuxian down after sealing them shut inside, winding his arms around his waist and drawing him into a warm embrace. Wei Wuxian wriggles further and breathes him in. His heartbeat is erratic, blood rushing through his ears in equal parts excitement and anticipation.
“Hello,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. At first, he doesn’t know if he's actually heard, but a hand cups his chin through the fabric of the veil and tilts his head upward. Gold meets his gaze, blown pupils almost swallowing the color.
Hands tug at the edge of the veil and removes it, revealing Wei Wuxian’s face to Lan Zhan for the first time that day.
Hanguang-jun doesn’t answer him and instead, he pulls him into a devastating kiss, sweet yet bruising, a foreshadowing of what is to come. Wei Wuxian dives into it fully, returning the passion with ferocity. They kiss for a long while until the seconds blur into the background, teeth clashing and sweeping over lips, tongues tangling and dancing with each other.
Wei Wuxian leans back a little, struggling to catch his breath. His mouth is wet and slick and watches Hanguang-jun’s eyes flicker to them before returning upward.
“Gege,” Wei Wuxian breathes out. “Why don’t we try for a young one now? It’s better to do it while the marriage is still fresh, after all. What if laoshi won’t find me attractive anymore when I grow old and wrinkly?”
“Will always find A-Ying pretty and attractive. Will always love A-Ying, even if he is old and wrinkly,” Hangunag-jun says. “But your core is strong and it will become stronger once it matches my own.”
Then, he adds, “My birth name is Lan Zhan.”
Wei Wuxian blinks. Lan Wangji has always been Lan Wangji to him. Hanguang-jun, in more formal contexts. Laoshi, when in classes. Gege, when Wei Wuxian is teasing him.
While it had occurred to him to ask since they were getting married, he hadn’t really pressed. It was customary within dragon traditions to offer their names, both birth and courtesy names, to only family or their closest friends.
It had already been an honor to earn the knowledge of Hanguang-jun’s courtesy name.
Much like the Lan ribbons around their forehead, names were sacred to them and did not allow others access to it freely.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian tests, weighing the name on his tongue. It feels right, like it is meant to be uttered by him. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!”
A burst of laughter escapes him, happiness overflowing within his chest. It weaves through his bones and marrows, pressing against his chest insistently, wanting to be known and expressed.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. “My A-Ying.”
“Yes,” Wei Wuxian breathes out. “I’m all yours now, gege. The heavens and the earth know this.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes darken even further and he slams their lips together, backing him into the bed. Wei Wuxian hasn’t even gotten a complete look at the interior of the Jingshi, only glimpsing an unending sea of red.
The edge of the bed hits the back of Wei Wuxian’s knees and they tumble onto it, Lan Zhan pressing him flat against the surface. His hair cascades around them in a curtain of darkness and it leaves them suspended in a moment of silence, both of them staring at each other without disguising their emotions.
Wei Wuxian has discovered—from the days and weeks of discussing with his laoshi, teasing his gege, and learning about the man behind the title of Hanguang-jun—that his eyes are the most expressive part of him. Such depth to a color, like a bottomless lake under a calm surface.
And this time, they’re looking at Wei Wuxian as though Lan Zhan is about to devour him whole.
“You can let go with me,” Wei Wuxian promises, cupping his husband’s cheek and grazing the soft skin under his eyes with a gentle thumb. “Everything with you, I promise.”
Lan Zhan closes his eyes and it only takes a moment for Wei Wuxian to notice the difference; there are hints of scales beneath his fingers and when he raises his hand upward, it bumps against something solid, like bone. A tickling sensation prods his leg, sweeping from side to side.
When Lan Zhan opens his eyes, his pupils are thinned into slits that dilate slightly when they catch sight of Wei Wuxian.
“There we go, gege.” Wei Wuxian stretches beneath Lan Zhan, unable to move much due to the layers upon layers of robes covering his body. “We should probably undress before we head to the main event.”
Lan Zhan undresses him slowly, peeling off every fabric with reverence and care and folding them before putting them away at the side.
“Now, you can finally ravish me without any interruptions.” Wei Wuxian grins up at Lan Zhan, leaning on his hands as he scoots backwards towards the headboard. “But I wonder, gege, would you even stop if somebody interrupted?”
“Nobody would dare,” Lan Zhan says, prowling forward with slow and purposeful movements. He tugs on the drawstring of his pants and tugs it off, folding it neatly before discarding it to the side of the bed.
Hanguang-jun in all his glory. With his horns, scales, slitted eyes, and the thick, heavy tail behind him, he looks every inch of the dragon-turned-human that he is. Not to mention the firm muscles corded all throughout his body, skin pale and mostly unblemished apart from the smattering of moonlit scars, and the rather not-insignificant size of the cock jutting between his legs.
Wei Wuxian swallows dryly, wondering how he got lucky. While he may have seen every inch of Lan Zhan before, it was only given in glimpses, teasing him with the potential of witnessing the entirety of this gorgeous creature.
“I still wonder how you’re going to fit that inside of me,” Wei Wuxian comments, spreading his legs a little and observing how Lan Zhan hones in on the movement. “But that’s what all those preparations were for, right, laoshi? You’ve taught me how to be patient and take it like a good little wife.”
His nerves are lit in fire, desire coursing through his veins. Wei Wuxian has been trying to ignore it from the moment he’d seen Hanguang-jun dressed in red, but his pussy has literally been dripping wet for hours, pulsing and aching for attention.
With his legs spread like this, Lan Zhan can probably see how desperate he is, how needy and yearning his body is for Hanguang-jun’s touch.
“A-Ying will take it nonetheless.” Lan Zhan climbs onto the bed and Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know how he manages to make crawling look dignified.
“Yes, gege,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching around Lan Zhan’s neck as they kiss. He can never get enough of kisses like this, their mouths melding into one and dancing to a rhythm that only they know about. “Anything you’ll give me, I swear.”
Lan Zhan indulges him for long minutes until Wei Wuxian’s lips are swollen and tingling. Laoshi leans back until he’s sitting on his calves and extends Wei Wuxian’s legs further apart, trailing his fingers across soft skin until he reaches the soft mound of hair.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian’s voice hitches at the contact, so close yet not close enough. “Don’t tease me, please.”
“I must prepare you thoroughly,” Lan Zhan tells him seriously. “We cannot skip the necessary steps.”
“Yes, yes.” Wei Wuxian waves a hand in the air and gestures at his lower body. “But we should move quicker because if you don’t touch me right at this moment, I’ll sit on your cock myself.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t give him an answer. Just as well because he finally lowers his fingers down to the seam of his pussy, circling a few times around his clit and dipping slightly into his leaking hole.
Wei Wuxian is so, so wet.
Hanguang-jun slides a finger inside, earning a half-frustrated and half-pleased moan from him, and tests the fit, fucking it in and out. Once he’s satisfied that Wei Wuxian is loose enough, he inserts another finger, stretching him further.
It still doesn’t hurt—Wei Wuxian had taken a lot bigger than that, courtesy of Hanguang-jun’s ‘preparation sessions’—but the friction sends bliss skittering across his spine. Lan Zhan’s fingers are bigger than his, thicker and longer, and reach places deeper than his own fingers can.
A moan pries free of Wei Wuxian’s throat, breaths gradually increasing into panting. His toes curl, dragging across the sheets, and his bent knees shake, threatening to collapse.
When Lan Zhan lowers his upper body and attaches his mouth to Wei Wuxian’s pussy, white floods his vision.
“Oh, fuck,” Wei Wuxian whines. His hands scrabble at the sheets, at Lan Zhan’s hair, tugging at his nipples—everywhere he can reach. “Like that, gege, please. Please, please, please.”
The dual sensation from the fingers in his pussy and Lan Zhan’s mouth on his clit, tongue working over the sensitive nub, is dragging him steadily towards orgasm. He can feel his legs trembling and jerking.
As Lan Zhan thrusts a third finger inside, Wei Wuxian comes—for the first time that night.
He vaguely registers Lan Zhan pulling out his fingers slowly, his mind buzzing and in a daze. Orgasms coming from Hanguang-jun are always devastating and earth-shattering, no matter what act it was from.
When he resurfaces from the aftermath, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes to Lan Zhan sitting by the edge of the bed, feet perched over Hanguang-jun’s lap and receiving gentle massages.
“Hello, Lan Zhan,” he slurs happily. Thoughts are returning to him in bits and pieces but complete coherency is still just out of reach. “My husband, my lovely husband.”
“A-Ying is so good to me,”’ Lan Zhan says, absurdly fond. “A very good wife.” His gaze lowers to the legs he’s grasping. “But he moves too much.”
Wei Wuxian swallows around the lump in his throat, heart beginning to pick up the pace and the fog immediately leaving him at the implication. “What plan of action do you propose, then, laoshi?”
Lan Zhan raises the object in his hand—his forehead ribbon. His eyes are impossibly dark. “A-Ying needs to behave.”
“Oh,” Wei Wuxian utters, blinking rapidly. He’s not so sure he should be this wet when he just came, and came hard at that. “Whatever gege wants, gege gets.”
“But I want your cock in my mouth first,” Wei Wuxian adds, peeking through his lashes for the full effect. “I want to taste you so bad, laoshi.”
“Hmm,” Lan Zhan only hums in reply but shifts into a kneeling position, his cock still hard. The forehead ribbon is set aside for later use. His tail glides along the sheets behind him, idle but poised. Wei Wuxian scrabbles towards him, laying down on his stomach and finding purchase on his arms until he’s eye-level with Lan Zhan’s dick. He sticks his tongue out when he opens his mouth, licking his lips to wetten them.
Hanguang-jun feeds him his cock ever so slowly, teasing him with the tip and spreading the oozing precome all over his lips and cheeks. Wei Wuxian whines, trying to glare at him through this angle.
“Wider, A-Ying,” Lan Zhan admonishes without heat and slides his cock deeper when Wei Wuxian complies, the edges of his mouth aching at the stretch. His cock is large, although proportionate to his body, but still bigger from what he’d observed through those cutsleeve fantasy scrolls Nie Huaisang would sneak for him.
Lan Zhan had mentioned before that it was due to his dragon heritage. It was even larger in his dragon form, split into two cocks. In addition, Wei Wuxian’s mouth is small and the few times they’ve attempted fitting the entirety of Lan Zhan’s cock in him, his jaw ended up tender for the rest of the day and his throat bruised.
The control of the pacing is given to Wei Wuxian, only Lan Zhan’s hands on his hair guiding him and keeping the strands out of his face. As he glances up, he finds Hanguang-jun’s heated gaze on him, the shadows from the curve of his horns adding a level of transcendence to him.
Whenever Lan Zhan stares at him this way, Wei Wuxian knows it’s not just the human watching him but also the dragon.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t let go of the eye contact as he bobs his head deeper and deeper, taking more of the length in his mouth with every dip of his head. His tongue swirls around the tip and presses against that one spot beneath it where it’s softer, licking over veins and lapping at every drop of precome that seeps from the head.
One of his hands trails to where Lan Zhan’s heavy balls are hanging, cupping them in his palm and rolling gently to increase the stimulation. It earns him a quiet grunt, satisfaction passing through him in waves. He levels up the rhythm another notch and more salty fluid fills his mouth. His remaining hand wraps around the base and alternates between tugging and rotating, Wei Wuxian’s saliva lessening the harsh friction.
Sweat builds up along his forehead and down the spine of his back, slicking his skin. The sounds within the Jingshi are filthy; Lan Zhan’s low grunts, both of them panting, the slap of skin against skin, the squelching noises everytime Wei Wuxian works his throat around the head.
“My wife,” Lan Zhan says. “My pretty wife with his mouth full of my cock.”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter at the words, sending sparks to his brain, and he rubs his legs together to maintain friction in his pulsating pussy. When he catches his breath for a moment, a whine escapes him.
“Want you now, gege. Please, I’m so wet for you, can’t you see?” he pleads. Lan Zhan tilts his head in consideration, roving his eyes all across Wei Wuxian’s body. A flicker of hesitation crosses his face but it vanishes just as quickly.
“Still not sure if A-Ying can take it,” Lan Zhan remarks, manhandling Wei Wuxian into the middle of the bed to lay on his back and grabbing the pale white ribbon from where he’d tucked it away earlier. “But he will be made to take it regardless.”
Wei Wuxian reaches up, gesturing impatiently. Lan Zhan follows him, caging him with his arms on either side of his head, and kisses him deeply, tasting of Wei Wuxian’s come. He withdraws after a moment, a string of saliva dangling between them, and holds the ribbon in front of him.
Wei Wuxian offers his hands but retracts it when Lan Zhan tries to grasp them. “Will you really make me take it, gege?” he teases. “What if I try to run or escape? What if I tell you to stop?”
The slitted pupils in Lan Zhan’s eyes widen further, almost appearing normal. However, the glow in them is unmistakable; the hint of creature and predator lurking beneath the molten gold. Lan Zhan’s grip on the ribbon visibly tightens, creasing the fabric.
“A-Ying won’t be able to do anything.” And as if to prove his point, he catches both of Wei Wuxian’s wrists in one hand before swiftly wrapping the ribbon around them a couple of times and doing a complicated twist in between.
Wei Wuxian struggles against the binds to test the hold. Nothing gives. It’s tight enough that he can’t move freely but not enough to cut off his circulation.
Lan Zhan grabs the longer end of the ribbon and reaches forward, looping it through the headboard once, and then twice, before securing it with a neat knot.
Wei Wuxian’s heart is racing out of his chest, rattling against the cage of his ribs. He’s dizzy with the onslaught of emotions; joy, excitement, desire, want, apprehension, anticipation, and the slightest hint of fear. His fingers grapple uselessly in the air, jerky and buzzing with the need to move.
“Gege,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Be gentle with me, gege. I’m only a virgin, after all. You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you? I’m your wife. You should be a good husband to your wife.”
In response, Lan Zhan slips a finger inside of his pussy. It’s wet, embarrassingly so, entering with a filthy squelch.
“This wants gentleness?” Lan Zhan asks with a hint of skepticism in his tone and slides four fingers all at once. His pussy is leaking so much that they glide through with little to no struggle.
Wei Wuxian squirms in humiliation, suddenly shy. “Gege,” he says in a small voice, fluttering his lashes. “Fuck me now, Lan Zhan. Make me your wife officially.”
Lan Zhan hitches Wei Wuxian’s legs over his hips and moves.
The first thrust inside drives a broken gasp out of his mouth. It’s big, bigger than what it seemed like, and stretches him impossibly. Lan Zhan isn’t even all the way in yet, his cock only fitting inside about a quarter through. But the wetness helps a lot, the next slide becoming smoother and dragging Hanguang-jun a little deeper.
When Lan Zhan achieves a decent rhythm, he slings Wei Wuxian’s legs over his shoulders, bending him further than Wei Wuxian thought his body could be flexible. Rivulets of sweat drip down their skin, smoothening the glide between their undulating bodies.
Wei Wuxian’s hair is sticking to his forehead and he can barely breathe through the series of pants and moans coming out of his mouth as though they’re wrenched straight from deep in his throat. Fireworks skid across his nerves and pushing him higher and higher into another peak, so gut-wrenchingly close. Pleasure floods his veins completely and he cannot distinguish where he begins and where Lan Zhan ends, tied together as one entity.
All of a sudden, Lan Zhan ceases thrusting which pulls Wei Wuxian out of the daze. However, the snap of clarity doesn’t last long as Lan Zhan takes the moment of daze to lift Wei Wuxian and turn him onto his stomach, looping an arm under him to hike his hips higher.
Lan Zhan fucks inside again and resumes his previous pace like nothing happened.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian babbles incoherently. He’s not sure what he’s saying anymore, too lost in the waves of bliss rocking through his spine. “My husband, so good to me. Faster, gege, give me your babies. Come inside of me until I grow full of your children.”
The slap of skin against skin grows louder until it joins the cacophony of moans, grunts, and whines coming from the two of them. Wei Wuxian’s body is jerked like a ragdoll, stirring at the rhythm that Lan Zhan had set.
A hand sneaks upward and plays with his nipples, alternating between the left and the right, twisting and pulling. It drags another whine from Wei Wuxian, drowning in the endless sensations.
His pussy is throbbing and slick, fitting snugly around Hanguang-jun’s cock like it was only made for that purpose. It is a heady thing, to be loved so intensely and irrevocably by a creature of myth and knowing the man beneath the dragon scales and fur.
“So close, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian slurs. He’s steadily climbing to the peak and he can almost see the free-fall, the inevitable crash. It’ll be devastating and mindblowing, but he’s not scared of it at all. Lan Zhan will always be there to catch him and remind him to breathe.
Lan Zhan speeds up impossibly, gripping Wei Wuxian’s waist until it bruises, his cock reaching deep into Wei Wuxian’s pussy that he can almost feel him in his throat.
“A-Ying,” Lan Zhan calls his name sweetly against his ear, hot air blowing against his cheeks. Wei Wuxian can only answer a broken moan, his voice hoarse and wrecked.
Lan Zhan presses his lips against the side of his head. “My beautiful wife. I will fuck you full of my children again and again until your belly is never not swelling with life.”
That does him in and Wei Wuxian finally tips over the edge of the cliff. His orgasm crashes onto him like a blast of qi, flooding and rushing all throughout his body. His spine bows and jerks against Lan Zhan’s chest as he writhes and trembles beneath him.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian chants, eyes rolling to the back of his head in overstimulation when Lan Zhan doesn’t stop, ramming in harder and harder. Hanguang-jun’s nails dig into Wei Wuxian’s flesh deep enough to leave imprints on his skin.
Lan Zhan slams inside for one more time before burying himself in completely. Wet warmth floods Wei Wuxian’s pussy, filling him with Lan Zhan’s come. This won’t get him pregnant; not yet, not until they’ve fucked in Lan Zhan’s other form, but the sensation comes close to it.
Wei Wuxian is left gasping and panting, a keen tied to every hitch of his breath. He only registers that his hands have been untied when he’s rolled onto his back and meets Lan Zhan’s eyes. Fingers gently clasp his wrists, investigating the brunt of the damage from the ribbon.
Lan Zhan kisses him once he’s satisfied that no permanent harm has been done. This time, it is sweet and chaste, a loving press of lips.
“How was that, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks, twining his weak arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders. Each of his limbs are shaking minutely from the aftershocks of his climax. “I’m officially your wife now. We’ve consummated the marriage. You can’t get rid of me ever.”
“Will always want to keep A-Ying,” Lan Zhan says solemnly.
Wei Wuxian is about to laugh, because of course his husband is just as sweet in bed as he is out of it, when something nudges insistently against his leg. He glances down and—oh, it looks like Lan Zhan hasn’t even gotten soft.
His pussy throbs in anticipation. Come is still dripping from inside it. By morning, it’ll be leaking copiously of his and Lan Zhan’s combined fluids.
“Don’t tell me you’re just going to stop at that, gege,” Wei Wuxian says, widening the spread of his legs.
Lan Zhan only hums and descends on him for the third time that night, just the beginning of many more ravishings to come.
The door to the Jingshi opens and Wei Wuxian opens his eyes blearily, peeking through tired lids. It’s barely noon yet and he’s already exhausted, but he manages to bring a smile when he catches sight of his husband, happiness immediately perking him up.
“A-Ying,” Lan Zhan says as he enters the privacy of their home, his antlers and tail flickering into existence. His scales glimmer when the sun hits it just right. “How is A-Yuan?”
“Just got him to sleep,” Wei Wuxian says through a yawn, voice low to not wake up their son sleeping against his chest. As though sensing the subject of their discussion, A-Yuan stirs in between Wei Wuxian’s arms, tiny fingers curling and relaxing. His mouth is slightly open, short and quick gusts of air escaping and entering.
He’s absolutely perfect.
“Look, gege, we made him together.” Wei Wuxian can’t help staring at their son without end. It’s been tiring but with the help of other disciples, some of the decent elders, Shijie, Jiang Cheng, Zewu-jun, and to his surprise, Lan Qiren, they’re actually managing to raise a baby without major problems so far.
“A-Ying did most of the hard work,” Lan Zhan says and gently caresses the soft tufts of A-Yuan’s hair. The way he looks at A-Yuan is simply breath-taking, like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Then, he glances up at Wei Wuxian. This time, his expression is unimaginably fonder as though he can’t believe Wei Wuxian is finally here, after all these decades of waiting for him.
They found each other in the midst of time and fate and nurtured the potential of love between them. They had gotten A-Yuan too and he hadn’t even thought his heart could expand so much to love and cherish another person this way.
Wei Wuxian will fight everything and anything to keep this. Good thing he knows Lan Zhan—his Hanguang-jun, his laoshi, his gege—will do the same.
After all, dragons are very protective of what belongs to them.
