( His husband, a tangle of limbs, and the rabbits that litter his lap, the young territory between their legs. Latch of Wei Ying's hands on silken spread, anchored. Nails blunt, a precursor to clawing. A rabbit inundates the negative space between Lan Wangji's ankle and Wei Ying's wrist. He lifts it, unbothered by the husband who clings to him with the despair-drenched white knuckles of a man nearly drowned.
Later, the sibling will remember: how hungry hands hunted the other creature, how he went ignored at the root of the stairs by Lan Wangji's shoulder, too northbound to suffer the indignity of two men and their tussle. How they bound themselves together, but left him alone.
In the howling vastness of the groaning stairwell, Lan Wangji's silence nearly carves out a scream from his lungs. He holds back. Watches the red on Wei Ying's lip, crowds it with his finger, for once not spreading the blood bead but gently bringing it up back to his own mouth, to taste. A smear lingers behind on Wei Ying's lip, timid and doppled.
It suits you, Lan Wangji mouths, for all he suspects Wei Ying's stupor runs like a summer sickness' fever, cloying, frivolous, insufferable — but predictably prone to iminent relief. He might see now, the words plainly shaped, and not glean them. He will understand them, later. After.
He does not force Wei Ying towards him again, but slides down a few more steps, to bracket the side of him. To capture the jut of his jaw in the cup of a hand, and elan in: )
Soft now, or hardened? ( He asks now with the airy, petulant impatience of a precocious student frustrated to ask learning from a master he wishes to outgrow. ) Teach me.
( This, their way, then: negotiation. The cartography of touches and silences. Wei Ying, who taught him the pains of a hard, critical blow, burdened now with the task to educate him and avoid the repercussions of a dissatisfying kiss. )
no subject
( His husband, a tangle of limbs, and the rabbits that litter his lap, the young territory between their legs. Latch of Wei Ying's hands on silken spread, anchored. Nails blunt, a precursor to clawing. A rabbit inundates the negative space between Lan Wangji's ankle and Wei Ying's wrist. He lifts it, unbothered by the husband who clings to him with the despair-drenched white knuckles of a man nearly drowned.
Later, the sibling will remember: how hungry hands hunted the other creature, how he went ignored at the root of the stairs by Lan Wangji's shoulder, too northbound to suffer the indignity of two men and their tussle. How they bound themselves together, but left him alone.
In the howling vastness of the groaning stairwell, Lan Wangji's silence nearly carves out a scream from his lungs. He holds back. Watches the red on Wei Ying's lip, crowds it with his finger, for once not spreading the blood bead but gently bringing it up back to his own mouth, to taste. A smear lingers behind on Wei Ying's lip, timid and doppled.
It suits you, Lan Wangji mouths, for all he suspects Wei Ying's stupor runs like a summer sickness' fever, cloying, frivolous, insufferable — but predictably prone to iminent relief. He might see now, the words plainly shaped, and not glean them. He will understand them, later. After.
He does not force Wei Ying towards him again, but slides down a few more steps, to bracket the side of him. To capture the jut of his jaw in the cup of a hand, and elan in: )
Soft now, or hardened? ( He asks now with the airy, petulant impatience of a precocious student frustrated to ask learning from a master he wishes to outgrow. ) Teach me.
( This, their way, then: negotiation. The cartography of touches and silences. Wei Ying, who taught him the pains of a hard, critical blow, burdened now with the task to educate him and avoid the repercussions of a dissatisfying kiss. )