Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian loves to tease his husband about the Lan sect's 4,000 rules. This night seems like any other night: he laughs as he gets into bed, and says, "There are just so many, Lan Zhan! I must love you a lot to follow ALL 4,000 of them."

Chapter Text

It's late afternoon in Gusu, and Wei Wuxian can't find his husband in the usual spots: the Jingshi, the library, the bunny fields. Disciples pass him on the way down the hill, and they tell him, "Wei Qianbei, Hanguang-jun is down by the cold pools."

"Is he okay?" he asks, wondering if there's been a hunt injury.

"Yes, he's just working on some project."

Blinking in confusion, Wei Wuxian nods and runs down to the cold pools.

There, industrious, his husband has several ropes clipped to a tree branch, and he is bent over one of them.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian runs down to him to watch. He likes the quiet, steady way his husband works.

"What are you doing?"

"Waxing rope."

"Oh?" Wei Wuxian giggles. "Is this for a boating date? Will you take me to Yunmeng again? Oh! Or is this for farming? Are you finally ready to live out our idyllic farmer dreams?"

"We can do that too." His husband loops a rope around the trunk of a tree, pulling steady as if it's a rein. His sleeves fall back, revealing taut forearms.

Wei Wuxian shamelessly marvels. "Oh, so then it IS a boating date you're taking me on?"

He glances at the ropes again and continues to prattle. "You know, as someone who grew up by the water, I must say these ropes won't be any good. They aren't thick enough and they're much too smooth for tying sturdy knots--it will hardly keep a boat in place. Oh, Lan Zhan, you're too soft and innocent!"

Lan Wangji works assiduously & quickly, and then looks at his husband with a cocked brow. His forearms tense as he reveals his handiwork: an intricate row of knots around the tree trunk, what looks like a tight bodice made out of the thin rope. Wei Wuxian blushes, feeling warm everywhere.

"This...?"

"This isn't for boating. This is for you."

Wei Wuxian nods, barely hiding excitement in his eyes.

"If you want." Lan Wangji pauses. "This should be ready this weekend, but if you want to go to Yun--"

"No!" Wei Wuxian yelps before he realizes it. He clears his throat. "No, no. Hanguang-jun, your plan...is good."

He walks up to his husband, gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek & shyly walks away, fantasies storming through his mind.

*

And so, this weekend, after Wei Wuxian steps out of the bathtub and dries himself, he walks around the room dividers—to see a full set-up that Hanguang-jun has arranged. Around their bed are several candles, flickering in the evening, lending a romantic glow to the room.

In front of the bed is a large mirror. And Lan Wangji, with only his trousers on, holds a long, red hemp rope on his arm. His forehead ribbon is still on, but his hair falls elegantly around his face, long and loose.

Coming from the south, seeing his stately husband so comfortable with the rope, Wei Wuxian feels warm already between his legs. He chuckles, “You’re going to tie me up, Hanguang-jun?”

“Mn, you already know,” he says, his eyelids heavy with intent. “Come sit and make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to the edge of the bed.

Obediently, the stark-naked Wei Wuxian sits, feeling like a newlywed, his toes pointed inward, his shoulders a little hunched. He is usually bold. He sits straighter and begins to goad his husband. “What makes you think I’ll listen?”

Lan Wangji unwinds the rope, creating a neat loop, a small bite through which anything could fit—Wei Wuxian’s imagination starts to run wild. His wrist? His ankle? His cock?

“You will,” Lan Wangji says simply, a small tilt on his mouth, the slightest, naughtiest of smiles.

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow, challenging his husband, getting on his knees in defiance. “Yeah? Don’t you recall I was once the formidable Yiling Laozu, the enemy of all people, a rogue and a radical? What are you going to do, Hanguang-jun? Take me as your prisoner?” He places two rebellious fingers on Lan Wangji’s chest.

“I’ll take you,” Lan Wangji says lowly, looping the bite in the rope around one of Wei Wuxian’s wrists, “And I’ll make you beg.”

Wei Wuxian scoffs, although his chest feels tremulous at the sight of the bright red rope against his wrist. “Beg for what, pray tell?”

In one brisk movement, Lan Wangji tightens the knot around his wrist and brings the rest of the long rope behind Wei Wuxian’s back. “Beg for me to be inside of you.”

Wei Wuxian glances at their reflections in the mirror. His chest is now flushed with desire. Seeing his prim and proper husband dominate him riles him up. He bites his husband’s shoulder and murmurs against it, “And what if I resist?”

He feels the rope tighten around his other wrist. “You won’t,” Lan Wangji says simply, his voice like low thunder that reverberates through Wei Wuxian’s bones.

And with that, Lan Wangji, holding the rope back, his husband’s wrists bound, lowers himself to Wei Wuxian’s ready cock, throbbing, begging to be touched even though Wei Wuxian himself hasn’t uttered so. Lan Wangji’s tongue moves achingly slowly along the length of it, and at the sound of Wei Wuxian’s hissing breath, he takes him full in his warm, slippery mouth, his tongue doing a dance separate from but coordinated with his lush lips.

Wei Wuxian’s back arches in pleasure, his head flung back in a moan. “Oh, Hanguang-jun, take me.”

Lan Wangji releases Wei Wuxian from his mouth and murmurs, “I told you so.”

With one hand holding Wei Wuxian’s back in binds, and the other kneading his ass, Lan Wangji returns to the task of lathering Wei Wuxian’s cock, his own moans resounding through his husband’s body. He opens his amber eyes to watch himself and his husband in the mirror, and grows hard, too. His own cock strains against the cloth of his pants.

With Wei Wuxian trembling and moaning, Lan Wangji pulls away and releases one of Wei Wuxian’s wrists from the rope. “Take off my pants.”

Flushed and shuddering, Wei Wuxian moves closer to do so, but halts when Lan Wangji says, “With your mouth and your one free hand.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Hanguang-jun rubs his erection against Wei Wuxian’s heat in response, until Wei Wuxian is keening and obliges, wanting to feel his husband against him, raw and full.

He bends forward and with his teeth, latches on to the waistband and pulls down until the pants are off. He gasps at the sight of Hanguang-jun’s erection. Even after three years of marriage and sex….hundreds of times, it is a sight to behold, a strong, girthy cock that is as sturdy as Lan Wangji’s moral compass, always pointing north. Wei Wuxian takes the base with his one free hand and begins to suck on his husband, moaning and drooling. Lan Wangji’s abdomen is strong, so he can continue kneeling like this even in the throes of pleasure, his stomach and ass clenching in ecstasy. Wei Wuxian looks up to see his husband’s eyelashes fluttering, his mouth hung ajar.

“Who has the power now?” he murmurs up at his husband.

“Mm, that will get you punished,” Lan Wangji says, pulling back on the rope and repositioning Wei Wuxian so he is sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet dangling, facing the mirror. Lan Wangji sits behind him, his legs dangling on either side of Wei Wuxian’s. He is gentle in this interlude, moving Wei Wuxian’s long hair aside to kiss his neck and shoulders.

“You may think you have the power,” Lan Wangji whispers between kisses. “But you don’t.”

He props Wei Wuxian’s knees up with strong hands, so that Wei Wuxian sees his own legs spread apart in the mirror, his own very erect penis pointing upwards to his perky nipples and flushed face. “Hanguang-jun, do you think I’ll make it that easy for you?” He playfully resists as Lan Wangji tugs firmly on the rope.

Lan Wangji loops the long rope around to the front and Wei Wuxian marvels as his husband winds the rope from his bound left wrist around his left knee and thigh, and then back around his butt, all the way to his right wrist and right leg. The feeling of the waxed rope against his skin is glorious, slow and tantalizing, like kisses trailing against him.

He is now bound, arms to his legs, spread wide apart, his hole and penis completely there for the taking in front of the mirror.

Lan Wangji has the end of the rope in his right hand, ready to tighten if he needs to. “You’ve got it wrong, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji says huskily. His husband shudders at the use of this name, only used between him and Lan Wangji in bed on special occasions. “You’ll be begging for me to be inside you, to fuck you.”

A moan escapes Wei Wuxian’s mouth, despite himself. He begins to thrust mid-air. Lan Wangji’s hands are on his waist and on the rope, his mouth on the nape of his neck, sucking and kissing. He can feel Lan Wangji’s erection against his ass cheeks, hot and sleek.

“Please, touch me,” Wei Wuxian says, his head thrown back against Lan Wangji’s strong shoulder, his back arching.

Lan Wangji sees this in the mirror over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and smiling, bearing sharp teeth and biting Wei Wuxian’s neck.

Wei Wuxian hisses again and thrusts the air. “Please, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji says, “Only if you watch. I want you to watch yourself be pleasured by me. I want you to watch yourself get lost in me.”

“Ungh,” Wei Wuxian moans, obeying. His eyes open with some difficulty, his head is misty with pleasure. Lan Wangji’s hand reaches around his raised knee and strokes Wei Wuxian’s waiting cock, gently but deliberately like a guqin. He begins with one finger, lightly playing, but then the sight of Wei Wuxian watching them both creates a circuit of pleasure too powerful for him not to indulge. He adds another finger, and another, and soon his husband’s cock is fully in his hand, gripped like a lifeline.

They begin to rock together.

Lan Wangji’s moans are like growls against Wei Wuxian’s neck, which spurs him on more. He thrusts into his husband’s reliable hand, and then he feels his husband reach back to tie the end of the rope to the bed post and then to the side of the bed—to where they keep the clove oil each night—and begin to rub his entrance from behind with his free hand. One hand on Wei Wuxian’s cock, one finger swirling against his entrance, his erection against Wei Wuxian’s prepared ass.

“L-Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says between breaths, “please, fuck me.”

“I’m not Lan Zhan today,” he says.

“Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m yours, please, be inside me.”

Lan Wangji slows the stroking of his cock, and hikes Wei Wuxian up onto his lap, so that he can be inside Wei Wuxian. “Mn,” he says, shuddering as he enters his husband from behind, “but you must finish with me.”

Wei Wuxian holds his breath, trying to calm himself a little, “Okay.”

They begin slowly, and Wei Wuxian marvels at the sinews of his husband’s body beneath his own, the thick thighs of Hanguang-jun, the cock that he can see thrusting into him in the mirror, the long, tapered fingers stroking his own erection. He marvels at his husband’s handiwork, his own wrists and thighs bound together, the redness of the rope stark against the yellow glow of the candles. He knows that though he can’t see it, Hanguang-jun’s impeccably sturdy abdominal strength is keeping them both upright.

He feels his husband grow even bigger inside him.

This knowledge riles him up more and he moans, “Hanguang-jun, Hanguang-jun, you’re missing out on the sight.”

With an effortless movement, Hanguang-jun rises from his crunch position and bites his husband’s shoulder. Wei Wuxian sees two bleary, amber eyes peering at him in the reflection. “You’ll finish with me,” he says.

“What-ever-you-want,” Wei Wuxian says, shuddering against the ropes, his hole tightening around Lan Wangji’s erection. He feels the slippery wetness of precum against his own skin, against Lan Wangji’s fingers that are still playing him like a finely tuned instrument.

“I’ll count,” Lan Wangji says, his eyes opening again, his lips moving against Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Ungh,” Wei Wuxian moans, his thrusts growing more desperate.

“10…”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know if he can last that long.

“9…”

He takes a deep meditative breath, but he remembers that Hanguang-jun wants him to watch himself. He does.

“8…”

His reflection peers back at him, completely lost and hypnotized in his husband’s touch. His husband’s hand around his cock is so beautiful---

“7…”

He feels a rivulet of drool escape his mouth.

“6…”

Lan Wangji laps at his earlobe with his sleek tongue, his thrusts growing deeper and faster in Wei Wuxian.

“5…”

Wei Wuxian grips at what red rope he can.

“4….”

“H-Hanguang-jun!”

“3…”

“Ungh….”

“2…”

Another lap of a tongue at his ear.

“1…”

“Ungh!”

“Come with me, Wei Wuxian.”

In the mirror, the two lose themselves in each other, the ropes barely holding them upright, their thrusts synchronized and crescendoing.

Wei Wuxian sees stars, sees the flickering of the candles around him, sees his own milky substance against his husband’s gorgeous musician’s hand and all over his own stomach. His own entrance is filled with Lan Wangji.

Slowly, slowly, they regain their breath.

Slowly, Lan Wangji cleans himself up and grabs a towel to help his husband clean up, kissing every part of him gently. When he comes to the rope, he slackens it masterfully and releases his husband, kissing his now-marked wrists.

“How are you, Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian falls forward joyfully into his husband’s arms. They stroke each other’s hair and cradle each other’s faces. Wei Wuxian smiles upward at his husband, who carries him bridal style onto the soft pillows. “Perfect.”

“You’re not hurt?”

He shakes his head. “I’m perfect, you’re perfect.”

Lan Wangji snuggles by his side, letting him rest on his chest. Their breaths slow and match the other’s rhythm.

“Where did you learn this, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian murmurs sleepily.

“Books.”

“He-he!” he giggles. “Your studious habits benefit me.”

Lan Wangji huffs in soft laughter. “I’m glad.”