[ Preparing Cloud Recesses for an informal visit from another sect leader still means a lot of fuss goes on, from stocking up the kitchens with more fish and meat than vegetables to account for a visitor's tastes to organising a private suite for Jiang Cheng not too far from Xichen's personal domain, should he care to speak with him in a hurry. Courtesies, all. Manners dictate he waits until Jiang Cheng is settled, so he does — the journey up the mountain is not a casual one to undertake, as the sect leader will remember from his youth — but once Xichen is certain his guest is comfortable he heads over to say hello informally, before he ought to receive him in the hanshi.
He raps on the door like one of the disciples might, idle excitement in his chest at the prospect of having a visitor; but particularly this one, who is overdue some time in Gusu, and is the first Xichen is meeting post-seclusion. ]
[ There were preparations for Jiang Cheng as well, be it picking the robes he would take or small gifts to show his appreciation for the hospitality offered, not to mention preparing an itinerary of what sect affairs to discuss even on such an informal visit.
Yet this time, Jiang Cheng had found himself busy with his own furtive preparations, and he is reminded of these at the knocks. He holds a qiankun pouch specifically embedded with cooling and preservation talismans and he can only hope whatever overexcited junior come to pick him up won't find it strange enough to investigate. ]
I'm coming! I'm coming! What's that noise! [ He opens the door with a token scowl, only to falter, mortified. ] Oh. It's you.
[ Hearing the yelling inside, Xichen wears a placid smile when Jiang Cheng wrenches open the door. The other sect leader brings a lot of colour and noise to Cloud Recesses (much like a certain other fellow that his brother prefers) and it's nice to have both after months of a cold, icy winter. ]
Forgive me, I know you were on your way to see me in the hanshi but that seemed awfully formal. [ Rules and customs will be observed, of course, but this isn't Lanling Jin where everything is pomp to be observed by the dozen at every corner. ] I came to ask if you were settling in and have everything you need?
I... [ He still finds himself flushed, on the brink of stammering like a foolish boy rather than the jaded, fearsome sect leader he likes to present himself as. ] I wouldn't have been that rude if I'd realized it is you. [ Well, not much better than stammering, really. Now Zewu-jun is only going to believe he is a bully to his inferiors, rather than to everyone. Great.
At last, he remembers the qiankun pouch he is clutching and holds it up. ] I brought the bribes.
People have been much ruder to me than that, it's alright.
[ His smile is unruffled and continues to be quietly amused, radiating calm to hopefully help Jiang Cheng relax. At the sight of the pouch, Xichen arches a brow and has to fight with a bigger smile that threatens to take over, eyes crinkling with mirth. ]
Perhaps we ought to refrain from calling them that, in the case of other ears crossing by.
[ But he still eagerly offers a hand to take the pouch, interested in looking at his gifts. ]
[ Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at that playful chiding, yet he doesn't even try to resist a chuckle. ] That is wise, yes, though... I would like to hear the teahouse tales of how I have corrupted respectable Zewu-jun. That should be amusing.
[ As soon as the words are out, it occurs to Jiang Cheng that Lan Xichen must have had a lifetimes fill of featuring in teahouse gossip after Guanyin and the whole terrible Jin Guangyao affair, and he has to stifle another wince at his thoughtless words.
He clears his throat, trying to brush right past any awkwardness his words might cause. ] Regardless, now you see that I have kept my word.
[ He is sick of seclusion. It was necessary for a time to grieve the man he thought he knew, and to come to terms with the monster who manipulated him. While Wangji was very responsible and took on the role of Chief Cultivator during this time, as Xichen emerged from his self-imposed exile from the world it became clear that things were not running as smoothly as he was led to believe, largely because the majority of Wangji's interests were not consumed by the rest of the world but by the inevitable return of one loud, spirited young man. One of the first things that happened when Xichen re-entered the world was to accept the title from his little brother who could not literally move fast enough to meet Wei Wuxian up the mountain at the jingshi. That was last month. Ever since, Xichen has been corresponding with the other sects as he re-immerses himself in the living world. Politics are not the only thing to slide back his way, interspersed with proposals from the families of eligible young ladies, and he is ... tired of pretending not to want other things. Perhaps, he sometimes reasons, if he had been more forward with Jin Guangyao, he could have tempered him with distraction, not only that but if he is working hard for the benefit of others he feels mildly entitled to enjoy himself in private, First Jade of Lan or not (is it selfish of him? He cannot begin to care, patience worn down by the pain of the past). So, when he passes by an enigmatic young man at a gathering, a vision in pink corralled from behind by rich red maple trees, Xichen opts for boldness and it gets him farther than he anticipated.
Cloud Recesses is peaceful like an open temple, it swells with the cool air from tall trees and any disturbance is noted by its denizens. He hears footsteps before he turns with a smile to see Wen Kexing there, tossing out poetry like he breathes it, and when a fan teasingly rests against his chin Xichen traces the line of it down to a wrist where his thumb finds a pulse. He holds on, gentle but firm as he steps in closer, peering down at Wen Kexing with a fondness he isn't sure he could stifle if he tried, and returns the touch by brushing curled fingers along a fine jaw, warm despite the seasonal chill in the air around them. ]
'If I am being honest / I am suffocated by my blush / I am speechless when I see you / It is much too obvious.'
[ With his eyes crinkling as his smile widens, he leans down in agreement that they will indeed get to do all sorts of things together and kisses him softly, slowly like a reward for scaling the mountain, a wordless Hello of lips. ]
Come inside so that I might warm you up then, beautiful.
He takes a moment while basking in the heat of Lan Xichen's mouth to realise he may be in over his head. It isn't the act itself, Wen Kexing has kissed and been kissed all over the Jianghu, greedy with desire wherever he goes and leaving quite the reputation for it. He has not been a blushing virgin in a long, long time. And yet there is something about this moment, out here in the open. Courtesans and prostitutes and the occasional pretty, but drunken honoured young gentlemen do not kiss like this. They do not hold their own, in the face of Wen Kexing's lavish hunger. And so Lan Xichen's confidence is heady, sure of himself and the way of the world around him, lacking any of the vicious frenetic energy that most assertive young men hold in their bones.
Were he younger, or more naïve, Wen Kexing is sure he would have been seething with lustful jealousy the minute he set his eyes upon him. Would he have wanted to be him, or to fuck him, this fine young master? Both, and more, presumably. But he spares only the smallest of thoughts to that starving boy though, too busy watching Lan Xichen's face with dark eyes when they part, his own mouth quirking into something teasing. )
Gusu Lan’s hospitality is certainly unparalleled.
( It is easy to follow Lan Xichen inside, Wen Kexing’s gaze devouring the shape of his back and waist as he does so. Any other time he might have been curious at the state of the rooms inside, but for now all of him is focused on one thing. Wen Kexing makes no attempt to hide that he was looking when caught, grin turning lecherous in response as he carefully tucks his fan back into his sleeves, stepping forward to close the space between them once more. He knows, vaguely, that he is absolutely breaking several societal rules by even daring to be near the Chief Cultivator, let alone with the intent he has. He knows, and doesn’t care. Rules are for mortal people, ghosts have no need to heed them.
A sigh falls from his lips, airy and light as he settles a hand at Lan Xichen’s waist, tucking long fingers behind the fabric of his sash )
Why don’t you let me thank you?
( He tugs, ever so slightly, on his grip at the sash before his own body sways forward, capturing Lan Xichen’s mouth in a kiss once more. This time, Wen Kexing lets his own heat simmer behind it, a warm tongue dragging over the plush and pretty bow of the other man’s lips, daring to slip inside when they part. A free hand settles on the other side of a sinfully shaped waist, holding him still so that Wen Kexing can press ever closer, a pleased hum falling from him at all that well-muscled resistance. )
[ There is a meal waiting on the table under wooden covers to keep it hot, a courtesy just like the unused but ready tea-set nearby, yet it all lies forgotten as he walks them to the half of the hanshi given over to a private abode. It is garish and unseemly to lead Wen Kexing there but it also seems frankly sensible, given the way his guest invades his personal space like a rabbit keen to hide from the cold. For his part, Xichen is as sturdy as one of the trees on the mountain, swaying only slightly with the kiss before he plants his weight and chases the slip of a hot tongue with his own to taste every corner of that clever mouth, a slow-burn attraction flaring to life with carefully controlled urgency. He can't rush, he tells himself, that would be a shame for so many reasons ... even if he wants him keenly.
He slides both hands around Wen Kexing's waist, mirroring the sneaky exploration under a sash, before following the curve of a backside with broad palms to drag him in closer, hip-to-hip as the heated kiss breaks for a breath. Not until after he nips a plush lip though, voice slightly deeper. ]
Shouldn't I be the one giving thanks? You climbed a mountain for me, consider me permanently wooed.
Ah, but you see. I'm a wicked man with an ulterior motive. I've practically scaled Gusu Lan's walls to steal away a precious gem they were hiding within.
( It doesn't matter that he was invited, that he was let in, the narrative of a burglary amuses him far more than anything else and he is naturally a mischievous storyteller. His fingers splay, heavy at Lan Xichen's waist before they walk playfully up the shape of his sternum, his broad chest, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as Wen Kexing peers at him through lowered eyelashes. He finds that there is something novel about the promise of strength between those pale blue robes, it isn't usually what he looks for when he takes men to bed. But he is sure, were this a struggle, Lan Xichen would give as good as he got, would put up a fight that might prove invigorating. He wouldn't win, of course, if only because the Ghost Valley Master knows how to do things that pleasant, behaved young men like Lan Xichen don't. He likes the promise of it though, the hint of muscle when he presses even closer, moving to cup the side of his throat with a broad palm, thumb tracing the sharpness of his jaw.
His shark like smile widens as he leans in, breath ghosting over the shape of Lan Xichen's mouth before he moves to the other side of his throat, tongue dragging a line over what little skin is exposed. He's been half hard since all of this started, and he makes the other man aware of it now, rolling his hips against Lan Xichen's own with a pleased, indulgent hum. )
Bed? I recall promising to show you the shape of my mouth wrapped firmly around your cock. ( It's crass, and he knows it, words turned sly and daring, the picture of a gentleman with the mouth of a degenerate. ) I plan to make you weak in the knees, so I'd rather you start comfortable.
[ There is no lying in Cloud Recesses, which makes it all the better not to have to point the rule out to a newcomer when, technically, Wen Kexing isn't even fibbing: he is with the First Jade of Lan (being considered such a treasure is useful, sometimes). Not that Xichen would be so rude as to correct Wen Kexing on anything. The delightful playfulness is charming when directed his way, he has a terrible feeling he would let him get away with a bit too much ...
The lick tasting his throat has his eyes closing and everything else — the dull pressure of a clothed interested cock, the dirty talk — makes him screw them shut a moment later as he gathers his resolve. Xichen is also getting hard and his soft robes do little to hide it once they are nudging hip-to-hip, an addictive sensation that sends a shiver down his spine. Wen Kexing is clever, pretty, and forward, all of his traits are attractive and his playfulness melts into Xichen too: in a single move he hooks under the other man's thighs and lifts him up, quietly famed Lan arm strength meaning he doesn't struggle for a second.
If he were anyone else he would wear a cocky smirk, as it is Xichen only beams up with amused eyes and a soft, would-be innocent smile as he walks them toward the bed. ]
Forgive my impatience, you did inspire it.
[ He sits back on the bed and tugs Wen Kexing onto his lap with a bevvy of robes susurrating around them. Capturing the other man's chin between a thumb and forefinger, he seeks to kiss him hungrily and invade that mouth all over again. ]
( Stunned silent is not a thing Wen Kexing often is. Hoisted around like he's a mere slip of a thing less so. Had any other man tried and they'd have probably found themselves on the wrong end of the Valley Master's bladed fan, but he at least still has the wherewithal to keep himself from causing a diplomatic incident. It wouldn't do to slit the Chief Cultivator's throat after all. Besides, his pretty smile is soothing, and his confidence daring, and when Wen Kexing is pulled astride his thighs and thoroughly kissed he forgets to be the vicious creature that hides beneath his skin, melting instead into the moment. It's easy after to let his weight settle, one hand moving to bury into Lan Xichen's hair, the other curled around his shoulder for added balance.
The kiss is a heated thing, starving, and he thinks he had definitely misjudged the Lan Clan leader the first time he saw him. Even the flirtation after had hardly prepared Wen Kexing for the heat of his mouth, the way it chases his own, and he finds himself grinding down, strangely impatient. His nails scrape light over Lan Xichen's nape, palm splayed against the back of his head as he sucks on his tongue. He tastes clean in a way that Wen Kexing finds appealing, a hint of tea but little else. He can imagine his skin will be just as free of fault and the thought makes him hungrier, somehow. How nice, to touch something pristine, even if he's half sure he could ruin it.
He tugs a little on inky black locks making Lan Xichen's head piece tilt, his teeth biting down against his bottom lip before he parts from the kiss. )
What about this? ( His fingers hover, but do not touch the silver on top of his head. ) Do I have to offer you any potential heirs if I touch this?
Really, there's no other word for his current behaviour. It's been several months since he spent a, quite frankly, spectacular night with the Lan Clan's sect leader. Several months, and while the night itself was something for the books, he should have drawn a pretty little line under it and gone about his own business. And he'd certainly tried, slinking back to Mount Qingya with nothing to show for himself but a twinging ache in his backside and a list of newfound kinks to file neatly away in a place he didn't look at. It really should have been left at that, Wen Kexing didn't have time for anything else, no matter how pretty the man or how strong the musculature. He'd schemes to put into place, rebellions to quash, the narrow-eyed glances of Luo Fumeng, and, lately, Gu Xiang to avoid.
And yet, his thoughts kept turning back, ruminating on how it had felt, being fucked stupid by Lan Xichen's broad hands, his massive cock. Wen Kexing is no blushing virgin, he's no celibate monk, he has always enjoyed sex, but these days now whatever engagements he finds himself in he always comes away lacking. It doesn't matter the man, concubine or tipsy traveller, it doesn't matter the position, top or bottom, nothing seemed to satisfy. Had Lan Xichen rearranged something vital in Wen Kexing when he'd driven deep inside of him? Had he bewitched him somehow with his pretty, earnest eyes and wicked, greedy hands?
He'd had to have.
All it had taken was one particularly ruinous week - a failed assassination in Wen Kexing's own valley, too many men dead by his own hands, an even worse encounter with his previous favourite working boy - and Wen Kexing had snarled his way back to Caiyi, frustration eating at his heels. He forgoes all propriety this time around, choosing instead to force his way through the wards surrounding the mountain with a pickpocketed token taken off some poor young disciple, a skill earnest, pleasant young masters surely shouldn't have but he doesn't stop to think about that. It gives him something to do, single-mindedly focused on seeing how far he can get before he's caught. Of course, he doesn't really notice when the ward falling away at the wall he's scaling, giving out a crow of victory as he yanks himself up, swinging a leg over.
He does hear the clearing of a throat though, Wen Kexing going still as he pauses, not quite looking Lan Xichen's way. There's no excuse to be had for it, he shouldn't have been able to make his way this far in the first place, stolen token or no, and there's no putting himself back together. The mask has slipped a little too far, and so Wen Kexing doesn't have it in himself to come up with an excuse. Instead he sniffs, haughty, glancing through his eyelashes and down the long line of his nose at the other man. )
[ The juniors are in an uproar, one thin thread away from grabbing their swords and rushing after the intruder as the spot on the map they are looking at traverses its way up the mountain. Xichen, in the middle of a lecture when the wards went off and the alarm was sounded, presides over the enchanted map and has a feeling about the intruder given their habit of darting for the highest point they can reach; they overshoot the hanshi by a bit. He has to wonder, were they heading there ... ?
Assuring the juniors he will take care of this personally, he leaves them in the hands of the disciples that rushed to the lanshi and makes his way north to the last known location of said suspicious ink-dot.
When it is who he hoped, his initial smile and warm reception is stopped dead by the haughty look and words. ]
Wen Kexing, [ it doesn't stop him moving closer, Shuoyue clasped forgotten in a hand at his side as his eyes widen in alarm, ] what's wrong? Are you hurt?
( A healing gash on the back of his thigh aside, he's not actually all that beaten up about the assassination attempt. Ah, but it's maybe a little harder to retain his air of aggrieved authority in the face of Lan Xichen's earnestness. He sniffs instead, swinging his other leg over the wall, robes askew. He doesn't move to smooth them out, nor does he make an attempt to get down, instead he rests his elbow on his knee, tucking his chin into his palm to give the other man an inscrutable look. )
I'm mad at you.
( He sweeps his gaze away from the other man and across the open space around them, thankfully seeing no other nosy little Lan. Which means when he kicks his foot and sighs like a child no one else is around to hear it. )
You should warn someone the next time you fuck them. ( Conversationally, like he isn't committing several crimes just by hanging out there. ) I haven't known true peace in months.
[ His eyes widen at the obscenity and he does glance behind, just in case, but they're alone up here and he can't hold back the way warmth flushes through him at the vivid memories. He walks forward to the insouciant fiend perched on the wall like barriers and wards are just for consideration. ]
Come down and be angry at me in my arms, at the very least.
[ Shuoyue is rested against a tree as he opens his arms, expansive sleeves fluttering as he positions himself a leap away from his long-absent lover, nothing but fondness in his gaze. Trust me, he says with a look, determined to catch the errant cat on his wall. ]
( It's entirely ridiculous, he's not some teenaged maiden. And yet he eyes Lan Xichen speculatively, as if weighing up his options. Those arms are quite sturdy, he knows, and so Wen Kexing barely gives him any warning before he flings himself from the wall. There's an oof of sound as he's caught, and then he winds an arm around Lan Xichen's neck, tugging at his hair a little, semi-mean, smile turning wicked. )
Don't think you can distract me with those muscles.
[ He swings Wen Kexing with the momentum of the sudden fall, coming to a halt as he plops him down and keeps him in his embrace. His eyes widen with soft insistence, as if he wants to be annoyed but can't. ]
Quite a lot, actually. I'd like for you to meet them so they don't think a terrible monster ate me up here.
[ Xichen brushes Wen Kexing's hair into order behind an ear, ending up cupping his cheek as he gazes down at him fondly — lively eyes bright from an illegal climbing rampage — and his tone softens. ]
[ Xichen's palms are sweaty where he rubs them inside the silk pockets of the long wool coat he wears upon entering the building, long hair down over his shoulders and flecked in snowflakes. He stamps on the carpet to rid himself of the sludge and greets the doorman cheerfully, nerves jangling unseen in his throat as he makes his way not to the elevator toward his apartment but to the ground-floor bar open to the public, a suave affair in dark wood and low lighting, wondering all the way if he has actually made a huge mistake. Nie Mingjue was insistent about the practicality of the idea. You haven't slept with anyone in seven years, it's time to move on from that little shithead. True, of course. He's had a horrid time getting over Jin Guangyao but Da-ge was right: Xichen does have needs, needs that are near to snapping after he got hard watching a (hardly) spicy sex scene at his best friend's house (and subsequently wanted to die of embarrassment). He could not refuse the myriad options Da-ge looked up on his laptop, efficient and unflustered in a bid to help, of attractive women and men ... and their listed rates.
Escorts, in a word. Hookers, by an unkinder one, but all from very high-profile companies as Da-ge pointed out.
They'll be discreet, don't worry. At worst you can tell them to leave whenever you want.
The only problem is, Xichen left all of the arrangements to his friend out of sheer humiliation and now has no idea which person he's supposed to be waiting for or receiving at the bar, going off the simplest description available of "Tall, pretty, and wearing red", which he supposes is Da-ge's way of trying to inspire some mystery. All it does, without his little brother's artful touch, is leave Xichen utterly perplexed as he looks around the bar, hoping no one has come.
A single man sitting alone wears a red shirt and Xichen feels his heart leap in his throat as he catches sight of a very pretty profile, silently sending Da-ge a round of mental thanks (and privately impressed the other man knows him this well). Swallowing his nerves, he makes his approach and clears his throat, emboldened by the idea of such a lovely creature being all his for the evening. ]
Another round for the young gentleman and I'll have a sazerac.
[ His gaze cuts sideways to the stranger, a soft smile in place as Xichen gives him a polite nod. ]
( Technically, Wen Kexing is here on business, if you'd call plotting the political demise of a nemesis business. Partial business, only because he so desperately wants Zhao Jing to suffer brutally before he dies, and what better way to do that than to get closer. He'd heard through more underhanded associates that bars like this were the perfect place for the older man to come, his unnerving habit of picking up young, pretty men a loudly spoken secret in the circles he ran. And so Wen Kexing had made an effort, tight leather trousers that accentuated his long legs, a silk shirt barely buttoned flashing off pale, creamy skin, the shape of his collarbone, jewellery that caressed the hollow of his throat, a hint of lipstick, of smudged eyeliner, grungy, but still somehow classy, rich but dangerous. Oh, he'd had no interest in picking up the bastard, but if he looked nice enough then maybe he could find a way in, and that had been a worthwhile endeavour.
Except, there was no sign of hide nor hair of the man, and Wen Kexing's drink had become more ice than liquor by the time he's interrupted. His irritation sits sharp in his throat, bitter like acid, threatening to snap.
And so he's about to send the interloper packing when he pauses, taking a moment to get a proper look at the man beside him. Oh, Wen Kexing thinks foolishly, not a total waste of time then. A dark gaze sweeps down over the tall, built figure smiling prettily his way, down and then up, and then back down again in a slow, greedy drag of eyes. Eventually he swallows, smile turning sly, moving to cross his leg at the knee, rest his elbow upon it and then his chin on his palm, all lazy, easy movement. )
Don't worry.
( His voice is warm, amused, all but a purr of sound. )
[ The way he's looked up and down, all but scanned and verified as an appropriate customer, has his ears burning pink and a short glance returning the same. He likes his voice, sing-song and light. ]
I hope I didn't keep you waiting. Please, have a drink on me as an apology.
[ He leans sideways on the bar and sips his own, gaze lingering on the pretty escort who seems as clever as he is comely. ]
( Keep him waiting, he means, but makes no further attempt to clarify beyond the sparkling amusement on his face as he takes his new drink. It's a little better now he's not the one paying for the overpriced monstrosity, Wen Kexing stopping to toy with the cocktail stick in the glass, still giving the other man a look that could be construed as quite scandalous in any other situation.
It's been a while since he had anything to play with, after all. Flirting with someone who absolutely has him mistaken for somebody else might cheer him up. )
Wen. Wen Kexing, but you could call me anything you'd like.
( Cheeky. ) What should I call you in return, handsome?
[ Curious. Maybe Wen Kexing is going for a more natural sort of meeting without admitting he already knows Xichen's name. ]
Lan Xichen. [ And after a beat, ] Huan.
[ It would be nice, he thinks, to be called his given name in ... certain scenarios. Amusement dances in his eyes as he drinks in the flirting, arching a brow as he navigates his own manners and tries not to come off like a creep who ordered sex as if from a menu of people. Which he did, sort of. ]
Would you like to eat dinner before we head to my place? I don't mind.
( Ever pushing his luck. But it seems like he's not the only one, the corner of his mouth twitching up at the offer. He's not particularly hungry, but he also doesn't know exactly what going to Lan Xichen's place might mean. Is this a business venture? A date? A hookup? He knows which one he'd much rather prefer, but it isn't like he couldn't excuse himself with little embarassment if it turned out to be the former. )
Are you hungry? For ah, food I mean?
( Sweet, like he's not devouring Lan Xichen with his eyes, leaning into his space in a way that has the shirt gaping, long necklace disappearing into the depths. )
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may.
legbreakings; violet tiger @ blue mountain
[ Preparing Cloud Recesses for an informal visit from another sect leader still means a lot of fuss goes on, from stocking up the kitchens with more fish and meat than vegetables to account for a visitor's tastes to organising a private suite for Jiang Cheng not too far from Xichen's personal domain, should he care to speak with him in a hurry. Courtesies, all. Manners dictate he waits until Jiang Cheng is settled, so he does — the journey up the mountain is not a casual one to undertake, as the sect leader will remember from his youth — but once Xichen is certain his guest is comfortable he heads over to say hello informally, before he ought to receive him in the hanshi.
He raps on the door like one of the disciples might, idle excitement in his chest at the prospect of having a visitor; but particularly this one, who is overdue some time in Gusu, and is the first Xichen is meeting post-seclusion. ]
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Yet this time, Jiang Cheng had found himself busy with his own furtive preparations, and he is reminded of these at the knocks. He holds a qiankun pouch specifically embedded with cooling and preservation talismans and he can only hope whatever overexcited junior come to pick him up won't find it strange enough to investigate. ]
I'm coming! I'm coming! What's that noise! [ He opens the door with a token scowl, only to falter, mortified. ] Oh. It's you.
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Forgive me, I know you were on your way to see me in the hanshi but that seemed awfully formal. [ Rules and customs will be observed, of course, but this isn't Lanling Jin where everything is pomp to be observed by the dozen at every corner. ] I came to ask if you were settling in and have everything you need?
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At last, he remembers the qiankun pouch he is clutching and holds it up. ] I brought the bribes.
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[ His smile is unruffled and continues to be quietly amused, radiating calm to hopefully help Jiang Cheng relax. At the sight of the pouch, Xichen arches a brow and has to fight with a bigger smile that threatens to take over, eyes crinkling with mirth. ]
Perhaps we ought to refrain from calling them that, in the case of other ears crossing by.
[ But he still eagerly offers a hand to take the pouch, interested in looking at his gifts. ]
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[ As soon as the words are out, it occurs to Jiang Cheng that Lan Xichen must have had a lifetimes fill of featuring in teahouse gossip after Guanyin and the whole terrible Jin Guangyao affair, and he has to stifle another wince at his thoughtless words.
He clears his throat, trying to brush right past any awkwardness his words might cause. ] Regardless, now you see that I have kept my word.
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wifedup; blue dragon courts pink maple ❄️🌸
[ He is sick of seclusion. It was necessary for a time to grieve the man he thought he knew, and to come to terms with the monster who manipulated him. While Wangji was very responsible and took on the role of Chief Cultivator during this time, as Xichen emerged from his self-imposed exile from the world it became clear that things were not running as smoothly as he was led to believe, largely because the majority of Wangji's interests were not consumed by the rest of the world but by the inevitable return of one loud, spirited young man. One of the first things that happened when Xichen re-entered the world was to accept the title from his little brother who could not literally move fast enough to meet Wei Wuxian up the mountain at the jingshi. That was last month. Ever since, Xichen has been corresponding with the other sects as he re-immerses himself in the living world. Politics are not the only thing to slide back his way, interspersed with proposals from the families of eligible young ladies, and he is ... tired of pretending not to want other things. Perhaps, he sometimes reasons, if he had been more forward with Jin Guangyao, he could have tempered him with distraction, not only that but if he is working hard for the benefit of others he feels mildly entitled to enjoy himself in private, First Jade of Lan or not (is it selfish of him? He cannot begin to care, patience worn down by the pain of the past). So, when he passes by an enigmatic young man at a gathering, a vision in pink corralled from behind by rich red maple trees, Xichen opts for boldness and it gets him farther than he anticipated.
Cloud Recesses is peaceful like an open temple, it swells with the cool air from tall trees and any disturbance is noted by its denizens. He hears footsteps before he turns with a smile to see Wen Kexing there, tossing out poetry like he breathes it, and when a fan teasingly rests against his chin Xichen traces the line of it down to a wrist where his thumb finds a pulse. He holds on, gentle but firm as he steps in closer, peering down at Wen Kexing with a fondness he isn't sure he could stifle if he tried, and returns the touch by brushing curled fingers along a fine jaw, warm despite the seasonal chill in the air around them. ]
'If I am being honest / I am suffocated by my blush / I am speechless when I see you / It is much too obvious.'
[ With his eyes crinkling as his smile widens, he leans down in agreement that they will indeed get to do all sorts of things together and kisses him softly, slowly like a reward for scaling the mountain, a wordless Hello of lips. ]
Come inside so that I might warm you up then, beautiful.
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He takes a moment while basking in the heat of Lan Xichen's mouth to realise he may be in over his head. It isn't the act itself, Wen Kexing has kissed and been kissed all over the Jianghu, greedy with desire wherever he goes and leaving quite the reputation for it. He has not been a blushing virgin in a long, long time. And yet there is something about this moment, out here in the open. Courtesans and prostitutes and the occasional pretty, but drunken honoured young gentlemen do not kiss like this. They do not hold their own, in the face of Wen Kexing's lavish hunger. And so Lan Xichen's confidence is heady, sure of himself and the way of the world around him, lacking any of the vicious frenetic energy that most assertive young men hold in their bones.
Were he younger, or more naïve, Wen Kexing is sure he would have been seething with lustful jealousy the minute he set his eyes upon him. Would he have wanted to be him, or to fuck him, this fine young master? Both, and more, presumably. But he spares only the smallest of thoughts to that starving boy though, too busy watching Lan Xichen's face with dark eyes when they part, his own mouth quirking into something teasing. )
Gusu Lan’s hospitality is certainly unparalleled.
( It is easy to follow Lan Xichen inside, Wen Kexing’s gaze devouring the shape of his back and waist as he does so. Any other time he might have been curious at the state of the rooms inside, but for now all of him is focused on one thing. Wen Kexing makes no attempt to hide that he was looking when caught, grin turning lecherous in response as he carefully tucks his fan back into his sleeves, stepping forward to close the space between them once more. He knows, vaguely, that he is absolutely breaking several societal rules by even daring to be near the Chief Cultivator, let alone with the intent he has. He knows, and doesn’t care. Rules are for mortal people, ghosts have no need to heed them.
A sigh falls from his lips, airy and light as he settles a hand at Lan Xichen’s waist, tucking long fingers behind the fabric of his sash )
Why don’t you let me thank you?
( He tugs, ever so slightly, on his grip at the sash before his own body sways forward, capturing Lan Xichen’s mouth in a kiss once more. This time, Wen Kexing lets his own heat simmer behind it, a warm tongue dragging over the plush and pretty bow of the other man’s lips, daring to slip inside when they part. A free hand settles on the other side of a sinfully shaped waist, holding him still so that Wen Kexing can press ever closer, a pleased hum falling from him at all that well-muscled resistance. )
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He slides both hands around Wen Kexing's waist, mirroring the sneaky exploration under a sash, before following the curve of a backside with broad palms to drag him in closer, hip-to-hip as the heated kiss breaks for a breath. Not until after he nips a plush lip though, voice slightly deeper. ]
Shouldn't I be the one giving thanks? You climbed a mountain for me, consider me permanently wooed.
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( It doesn't matter that he was invited, that he was let in, the narrative of a burglary amuses him far more than anything else and he is naturally a mischievous storyteller. His fingers splay, heavy at Lan Xichen's waist before they walk playfully up the shape of his sternum, his broad chest, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as Wen Kexing peers at him through lowered eyelashes. He finds that there is something novel about the promise of strength between those pale blue robes, it isn't usually what he looks for when he takes men to bed. But he is sure, were this a struggle, Lan Xichen would give as good as he got, would put up a fight that might prove invigorating. He wouldn't win, of course, if only because the Ghost Valley Master knows how to do things that pleasant, behaved young men like Lan Xichen don't. He likes the promise of it though, the hint of muscle when he presses even closer, moving to cup the side of his throat with a broad palm, thumb tracing the sharpness of his jaw.
His shark like smile widens as he leans in, breath ghosting over the shape of Lan Xichen's mouth before he moves to the other side of his throat, tongue dragging a line over what little skin is exposed. He's been half hard since all of this started, and he makes the other man aware of it now, rolling his hips against Lan Xichen's own with a pleased, indulgent hum. )
Bed? I recall promising to show you the shape of my mouth wrapped firmly around your cock. ( It's crass, and he knows it, words turned sly and daring, the picture of a gentleman with the mouth of a degenerate. ) I plan to make you weak in the knees, so I'd rather you start comfortable.
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The lick tasting his throat has his eyes closing and everything else — the dull pressure of a clothed interested cock, the dirty talk — makes him screw them shut a moment later as he gathers his resolve. Xichen is also getting hard and his soft robes do little to hide it once they are nudging hip-to-hip, an addictive sensation that sends a shiver down his spine. Wen Kexing is clever, pretty, and forward, all of his traits are attractive and his playfulness melts into Xichen too: in a single move he hooks under the other man's thighs and lifts him up, quietly famed Lan arm strength meaning he doesn't struggle for a second.
If he were anyone else he would wear a cocky smirk, as it is Xichen only beams up with amused eyes and a soft, would-be innocent smile as he walks them toward the bed. ]
Forgive my impatience, you did inspire it.
[ He sits back on the bed and tugs Wen Kexing onto his lap with a bevvy of robes susurrating around them. Capturing the other man's chin between a thumb and forefinger, he seeks to kiss him hungrily and invade that mouth all over again. ]
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The kiss is a heated thing, starving, and he thinks he had definitely misjudged the Lan Clan leader the first time he saw him. Even the flirtation after had hardly prepared Wen Kexing for the heat of his mouth, the way it chases his own, and he finds himself grinding down, strangely impatient. His nails scrape light over Lan Xichen's nape, palm splayed against the back of his head as he sucks on his tongue. He tastes clean in a way that Wen Kexing finds appealing, a hint of tea but little else. He can imagine his skin will be just as free of fault and the thought makes him hungrier, somehow. How nice, to touch something pristine, even if he's half sure he could ruin it.
He tugs a little on inky black locks making Lan Xichen's head piece tilt, his teeth biting down against his bottom lip before he parts from the kiss. )
What about this? ( His fingers hover, but do not touch the silver on top of his head. ) Do I have to offer you any potential heirs if I touch this?
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the next person who gets in the way of me writing is getting dropkicked 😡
ironically also xichen's reaction if they were interrupted
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Really, there's no other word for his current behaviour. It's been several months since he spent a, quite frankly, spectacular night with the Lan Clan's sect leader. Several months, and while the night itself was something for the books, he should have drawn a pretty little line under it and gone about his own business. And he'd certainly tried, slinking back to Mount Qingya with nothing to show for himself but a twinging ache in his backside and a list of newfound kinks to file neatly away in a place he didn't look at. It really should have been left at that, Wen Kexing didn't have time for anything else, no matter how pretty the man or how strong the musculature. He'd schemes to put into place, rebellions to quash, the narrow-eyed glances of Luo Fumeng, and, lately, Gu Xiang to avoid.
And yet, his thoughts kept turning back, ruminating on how it had felt, being fucked stupid by Lan Xichen's broad hands, his massive cock. Wen Kexing is no blushing virgin, he's no celibate monk, he has always enjoyed sex, but these days now whatever engagements he finds himself in he always comes away lacking. It doesn't matter the man, concubine or tipsy traveller, it doesn't matter the position, top or bottom, nothing seemed to satisfy. Had Lan Xichen rearranged something vital in Wen Kexing when he'd driven deep inside of him? Had he bewitched him somehow with his pretty, earnest eyes and wicked, greedy hands?
He'd had to have.
All it had taken was one particularly ruinous week - a failed assassination in Wen Kexing's own valley, too many men dead by his own hands, an even worse encounter with his previous favourite working boy - and Wen Kexing had snarled his way back to Caiyi, frustration eating at his heels. He forgoes all propriety this time around, choosing instead to force his way through the wards surrounding the mountain with a pickpocketed token taken off some poor young disciple, a skill earnest, pleasant young masters surely shouldn't have but he doesn't stop to think about that. It gives him something to do, single-mindedly focused on seeing how far he can get before he's caught. Of course, he doesn't really notice when the ward falling away at the wall he's scaling, giving out a crow of victory as he yanks himself up, swinging a leg over.
He does hear the clearing of a throat though, Wen Kexing going still as he pauses, not quite looking Lan Xichen's way. There's no excuse to be had for it, he shouldn't have been able to make his way this far in the first place, stolen token or no, and there's no putting himself back together. The mask has slipped a little too far, and so Wen Kexing doesn't have it in himself to come up with an excuse. Instead he sniffs, haughty, glancing through his eyelashes and down the long line of his nose at the other man. )
I have a bone to pick with you.
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Assuring the juniors he will take care of this personally, he leaves them in the hands of the disciples that rushed to the lanshi and makes his way north to the last known location of said suspicious ink-dot.
When it is who he hoped, his initial smile and warm reception is stopped dead by the haughty look and words. ]
Wen Kexing, [ it doesn't stop him moving closer, Shuoyue clasped forgotten in a hand at his side as his eyes widen in alarm, ] what's wrong? Are you hurt?
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( A healing gash on the back of his thigh aside, he's not actually all that beaten up about the assassination attempt. Ah, but it's maybe a little harder to retain his air of aggrieved authority in the face of Lan Xichen's earnestness. He sniffs instead, swinging his other leg over the wall, robes askew. He doesn't move to smooth them out, nor does he make an attempt to get down, instead he rests his elbow on his knee, tucking his chin into his palm to give the other man an inscrutable look. )
I'm mad at you.
( He sweeps his gaze away from the other man and across the open space around them, thankfully seeing no other nosy little Lan. Which means when he kicks his foot and sighs like a child no one else is around to hear it. )
You should warn someone the next time you fuck them. ( Conversationally, like he isn't committing several crimes just by hanging out there. ) I haven't known true peace in months.
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Come down and be angry at me in my arms, at the very least.
[ Shuoyue is rested against a tree as he opens his arms, expansive sleeves fluttering as he positions himself a leap away from his long-absent lover, nothing but fondness in his gaze. Trust me, he says with a look, determined to catch the errant cat on his wall. ]
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Don't think you can distract me with those muscles.
( Then slyly. )
How much trouble have I caused?
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Quite a lot, actually. I'd like for you to meet them so they don't think a terrible monster ate me up here.
[ Xichen brushes Wen Kexing's hair into order behind an ear, ending up cupping his cheek as he gazes down at him fondly — lively eyes bright from an illegal climbing rampage — and his tone softens. ]
Did you really come back to see me?
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wifedup; lifetimes ago on a mountain
Escorts, in a word. Hookers, by an unkinder one, but all from very high-profile companies as Da-ge pointed out.
They'll be discreet, don't worry. At worst you can tell them to leave whenever you want.
The only problem is, Xichen left all of the arrangements to his friend out of sheer humiliation and now has no idea which person he's supposed to be waiting for or receiving at the bar, going off the simplest description available of "Tall, pretty, and wearing red", which he supposes is Da-ge's way of trying to inspire some mystery. All it does, without his little brother's artful touch, is leave Xichen utterly perplexed as he looks around the bar, hoping no one has come.
A single man sitting alone wears a red shirt and Xichen feels his heart leap in his throat as he catches sight of a very pretty profile, silently sending Da-ge a round of mental thanks (and privately impressed the other man knows him this well). Swallowing his nerves, he makes his approach and clears his throat, emboldened by the idea of such a lovely creature being all his for the evening. ]
Another round for the young gentleman and I'll have a sazerac.
[ His gaze cuts sideways to the stranger, a soft smile in place as Xichen gives him a polite nod. ]
Pardon my forwardness.
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Except, there was no sign of hide nor hair of the man, and Wen Kexing's drink had become more ice than liquor by the time he's interrupted. His irritation sits sharp in his throat, bitter like acid, threatening to snap.
And so he's about to send the interloper packing when he pauses, taking a moment to get a proper look at the man beside him. Oh, Wen Kexing thinks foolishly, not a total waste of time then. A dark gaze sweeps down over the tall, built figure smiling prettily his way, down and then up, and then back down again in a slow, greedy drag of eyes. Eventually he swallows, smile turning sly, moving to cross his leg at the knee, rest his elbow upon it and then his chin on his palm, all lazy, easy movement. )
Don't worry.
( His voice is warm, amused, all but a purr of sound. )
You can be as forward as you like.
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I hope I didn't keep you waiting. Please, have a drink on me as an apology.
[ He leans sideways on the bar and sips his own, gaze lingering on the pretty escort who seems as clever as he is comely. ]
What's your name?
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( Keep him waiting, he means, but makes no further attempt to clarify beyond the sparkling amusement on his face as he takes his new drink. It's a little better now he's not the one paying for the overpriced monstrosity, Wen Kexing stopping to toy with the cocktail stick in the glass, still giving the other man a look that could be construed as quite scandalous in any other situation.
It's been a while since he had anything to play with, after all. Flirting with someone who absolutely has him mistaken for somebody else might cheer him up. )
Wen. Wen Kexing, but you could call me anything you'd like.
( Cheeky. ) What should I call you in return, handsome?
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Lan Xichen. [ And after a beat, ] Huan.
[ It would be nice, he thinks, to be called his given name in ... certain scenarios. Amusement dances in his eyes as he drinks in the flirting, arching a brow as he navigates his own manners and tries not to come off like a creep who ordered sex as if from a menu of people. Which he did, sort of. ]
Would you like to eat dinner before we head to my place? I don't mind.
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( Ever pushing his luck. But it seems like he's not the only one, the corner of his mouth twitching up at the offer. He's not particularly hungry, but he also doesn't know exactly what going to Lan Xichen's place might mean. Is this a business venture? A date? A hookup? He knows which one he'd much rather prefer, but it isn't like he couldn't excuse himself with little embarassment if it turned out to be the former. )
Are you hungry? For ah, food I mean?
( Sweet, like he's not devouring Lan Xichen with his eyes, leaning into his space in a way that has the shirt gaping, long necklace disappearing into the depths. )
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