married wangxian with lwj who KNOWS he has wwx smitten for him. he loves taking wwx’s breath away and watching him go all speechless (like he’s done to lwj so often) so.

he starts being almost... coy.

lan wangji who sweeps his hair over his shoulder, free from all headpieces and clips and contraptions, when wei ying comes home from teaching the disciples, exposing the long line of his neck that wei ying loves pressing kisses and bites and marks against.

lan wangji who lets his eyes cast downwards before he looks at his husband from under his lashes as he pours wei ying his liquor after a long night hunt. he doesn’t miss the way wei ying’s eyes stay on him throughout the rest of the meal.

one day, lan wangji oh so gently lets his robe slip off his shoulder in the morning, when he wakes up at his usual 5 o’clock time. wei ying is fidgeting as he watches lan wangji get ready. he goes to sleep soon after, usually.

not this time.

lan wangji sits at the side of the bed, slowly working through the tangles in his hair with a brush wei ying had carved for him on one of his travels—made from rich, dark wood, a peony among nature—when he feels wei ying shifting behind him.

a soft kiss is placed against his bare shoulder where he hadn’t bothered to lift his sleeping robe.

“lan zhan,” wei ying’s voice is still rough from sleep, a deep cadence that leaves lan wangji feeling heat settle low in his belly. another brush of those plush lips. “let me.”

wei ying takes the brush from lan wangji’s hand, pressing a kiss against his knuckles before beginning to draw through the long curtain of hair. wei ying is gentle, as always, but lan wangji can’t help but smile to himself.

it usually takes much more than this to get wei ying out of bed in the mornings: usually the promise of some adventure, or an adventure in bed. if some bare skin is all he needs to get the great yiling patriarch to listen to him, well. lan wangji can’t be blamed for pocketing+

that fact, can he?

he goes on with his day. wears wei ying’s favorite scent—sandalwood and rose—the next day, relishes in the way his husband drapes himself over lan wangji’s back as he cooks and caresses his sides, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

the next day, lan wangji prepares a surprise for wei ying. there is no particular occasion, just... he loves his husband.

wei ying has been working so hard lately, coming up with new inventions and teaching the disciples, that lan wangji would like him to... unwind.

and he knows exactly how to help.

when wei ying goes to help sizhui and jingyi with sword formations the next day, lan wangji anticipates he’ll be waiting in the back field, beyond their hilltop, where they usually travel together for getaways, to talk, for... other things.

he dabbles on some rouge (it drives wei ying crazy) puts on his robes, and walks from the back of the jingshi, carefully avoiding any contact with other gusulan residents. him, like this, is for wei ying’s eyes only.

as he expected, wei ying is lounging with his back to a tree, chenqing pressed to his lips. gods above, how lan wangji loves those lips.

he waits for his beautiful husband do notice him, which of course, he already has, as wei ying’s face transforms into the most gorgeous smile. lan wangji’s heart is so full.

“lan zhan! you’re here!”

lan wangji allows a small smile to play on his lips as he inclines his head, coming to a stop in front of wei ying. “i am here.”

“come sit then! let’s play together! I’ve been working on this new composition...”

lan wangji watches quietly as his husband continues on, eyes alight, arms waving and just narrowly avoiding clipping lan wangji’s face with chenqing. he wants to kiss wei ying so bad right now.

but he waits. he knows his husband, that it will only be a matter of time before he notices...

“...and i thought i could add this melody here and—lan /zhan./“

“yes, wei ying?”

“you...you!”

lan wangji stifles laughter at the look on his husband’s face as his eyes are fixated on lan wangji’s lower half. “me.” he says softly.

wei ying groans, putting chenqing down and pulling lan wangji to him, one arm around his waist and another holding his hand, up+

up, and into his lap. his hands travel down to where his eyes were just moments ago, where lan wangji’s bare thigh was peeking out of his slit robes.

“you’re going to /kill/ me, lan zhan,” wei ying—well, he whines, there’s no other word to describe it. “here lies wei wuxian, for the /second/ time—“

“do not talk like that” lan wangji whispers, before leaning in to (finally!) kiss his husband.

wei ying kisses back, one hand on lan wangji’s flank while the other slides up his thigh, where the folds of his robes parted more when wei ying pulled him into his lap.

“fuck, lan zhan, you know how i feel about your legs.” wei ying nips at his bottom lip before grabbing his thigh with a bruising grip and /yanking/ him back in, flush against wei ying’s chest. this way, lan wangji’s lips are in a perfect position to press a kiss against his+

forehead. so he does just that.

the thing is, lan wangji DOES know how wei ying feels about his legs. has heard him whisper about how he wants to press kisses on the inside of them, bite at his thighs, have them wrap around his waist as he does bad, /bad/ things to lan wangji.

he knows. that’s why, when wei ying is busy kissing up the side of his jaw, he brings his hands down to undo the ties of his outer robe. pushes it off his shoulders onto the grass behind him. when wei ying moves to open the inner (and last) robe, lan wangji slaps his hands away.

this is not what he’s here for.

he can feel wei ying hard from under his robes where their hips are flush against one another. perfect.

lan wangji rises up on his knees using wei ying’s strong, sturdy shoulders as support, and lifts up his robe from the hem at his feet.

wei ying is breathing heavily in front of him, his eyes blown wide. lan wangji knows he must look the same. he lifts his robes, pushes wei ying’s aside to draw his cock from under his inner pants, and sinks down.

“o-oh, /fuck/ lan zhan, you—/hah/—you weren’t wearing anything underneath? you—oh, that’s it, baobei, slowly—you walked around like that?”

lan wangji can do nothing but moan for a few minutes, sinking down on his husband’s thick cock where he had prepped himself before coming.

he rolls his hips, hands tight on wei ying’s shoulders. hums in response. lifts up, and sinks back down. hard.

wei ying’s broken gasp echoes in his ear. he bites the lobe, lifting up again.

wei ying clutches him, his face, his waist, his hips, before finally grabbing handfuls of his ass and using that as levarage to fuck up into lan wangji the same time he pulls him down into his cock.

lan wangji gasps, whines, moans as he’s reduced into an incoherent mess in the middle of an open field.

shit. they’re in the middle of a public area, where anyone can walk in on them: one fully clothed while the other is merely in a thin silk robe falling off his body.

lan wangji feels a jolt of arousal and the thought and grabs at wei ying’s hair, pulling roughly. wei ying looks at him, looks at the way his robe is bunched up at his hips, rubbing against his swollen cock with each thrust. the slick slap of their hips is the only thing he knows

he feels himself start to build in more arousal, wei ying whispering dirty things in his ear: “imagine if someone knew you were wearing nothing under this, like i do. you’re so dirty, lan zhan, behaving like this, so perfect on the outside but just wanting to get fucked by me.”

lan wangji can do nothing but gasp and hold on when wei ying suddenly pulls out, pushing lan wangji to lie on his discarded outer robe, ever so gentle despite fucking him into oblivion seconds before.

“there we go, that’s it. look at you, lan zhan, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” wei ying slips back in, just staying there for a moment. lan wangji attempts to move his hips to gain more friction, to get wei ying to start fucking him again, but his husband+

doesn’t budge.

“so beautiful.” a kiss is pressed to the hollow of his throat.

“you are more beautiful.”

that startles a laugh out of wei ying, and he pecks lan wangji on the cheek before grabbing the backs of his knees and pushing them towards his chest as he starts moving.

“lan zhan—fuck, that’s right, baobei—that’s sweet of you to say,” a particularly hard thrust, and lan wangji throws his head back as pleasure clouds his mind, “but I’ll have to respectfully disagree.”

lan wangji can’t think of anything besides wei ying’s cock, hard and long and relentlessly pushing into him, over and over and over again until—

wei ying puts a hand to his cock, tight and pulls him to completion. lan wangji can’t breathe, the pleasure mounting into a peak he cannot come down from. he clenches hard as he comes, squeezing tight around his husband’s cock, still buried inside him.

wei ying groans and slumps as he releases into lan wangji. fuck, he loves this so much. he wants /more./

“lan zhan,” wei ying says, “that was so hot.”

lan wangji is still panting, the exertion from their little tryst still fresh in his mind.

“good,” he says, rolling wei ying over onto his back as he settles down on top of him once more.

“we aren’t done yet.”