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. )
no subject
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.