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If there was something that made Jiang Cheng feel calm and controlled, it is having his control taken away from him.
Of course, not that many people would know. In fact, aside from himself, only one other person does know, and that’s because he walked in on Jiang Cheng tying himself up with Zidian, blabbering about something or other before stopping dead in his tracks as he’d taken in the sight of Jiang Cheng on his bed, bound with his own spiritual weapon.
Zidian is Jiang Cheng’s to use; with a simple command, he could’ve made the whip unwind from around himself, but he’d been too panicked to gather his thoughts.
And Wei Wuxian knows that too, and he’d stalked closer to Jiang Cheng despite his protests.
That was the first time Wei Wuxian had cupped a hand against Jiang Cheng’s cheek and called him a good boy; the first time Wei Wuxian had made him come with only a few rubs on his cock.
Now—now Jiang Cheng feels safe enough with Wei Wuxian like this, being completely at the other’s mercy. He sometimes—rarely—works up the nerve to actually ask Wei Wuxian to do this for him, but most of the time it’s Wei Wuxian noticing and then taking care of him, or when he’s already very fucking angry and Wei Wuxian has to work him down from that instead.
It’s a balance, but it’s one they’re getting the hang of for quickly.
Wei Wuxian presses a kiss into his collarbone, and then on his shoulder. His hands are resting on Jiang Cheng’s waist, and he likes to pinch the skin there from time to time.
Zidian crackles softly around Jiang Cheng’s body.
It doesn’t hurt—it hasn’t hurt, for a long time. Jiang Cheng had given Wei Wuxian permission to use it, after he inherited it—he never thought that as a demonic cultivator, Wei Wuxian would be able to use it, but—he can. The logistics aren’t for Jiang Cheng to parse out, and he leaves it as that.
‘A-Cheng,’ Wei Wuxian says, and Jiang Cheng lets himself be lost in the sound of his voice, the way it caresses his skin and soothes his agitated nerves, ‘You’re already being a good boy for me. Keep it up, right?’
Jiang Cheng nods, eyes half-lidded, and sighs when Wei Wuxian’s fingers reach down to wrap loosely around his cock, leaning into his touch as Wei Wuxian grips his cock and rubs him a few times.
And then it’s gone, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind.
Everything is slow, soft, and—that’s the way Wei Wuxian wants to do things today. Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind, whether Wei Wuxian wants to fuck him so hard he loses all cognitive though, or whether he wants to soothe and cajole Jiang Cheng until he can’t think anymore.
Both are good enough, in his opinion.
He sighs out a breath as Wei Wuxian’s hands and lips roam over his body—his body that’s littered with scars, some healed, some only half-healed, but there is no shame in letting Wei Wuxian see them. After all, they bear identical marks—Jiang Cheng’s largest scars being on his back where he’d been whipped by the Wens, and Wei Wuxian’s where he’d been whipped with Zidian.
It is strangely—fitting, for them, to have borne half-healed scars for each other.
‘A-Cheng,’ Wei Wuxian says, and Jiang Cheng looks at him, mouth curving into a smile when Wei Wuxian leans forward to kiss him. It’s soft. It’s barely brushing their lips together, and yet, Jiang Cheng feels warm, safe—Wei Wuxian’s lips are soft, warm. It’s the only part of him that’s warm nowadays.
‘Wei Wuxian,’ Jiang Cheng says, and his voice isn’t as harsh as he wants it to be, isn’t as cold as he wants it to be, but it’s fine, because this is Wei Wuxian. This is the only other person he trusts, aside from his sister.
‘You’re really beautiful,’ Wei Wuxian says, voice soft, like it’s a secret, like it’s something only for Jiang Cheng to hear. And in a way, it is. ‘You’re so pretty, A-Cheng. And not just your face. Every part of you—your face, your arms, your legs, your chest, you everything—is beautiful. I’m blessed that I am the one who gets to see you like this.’
Zidian crackles, and Jiang Cheng whines lowly, trying to push forward so that he can get a kiss from Wei Wuxian—and he complies, sliding his tongue into Jiang Cheng’s mouth and kissing him, tasting him, and Jiang Cheng melts into it, sighing a shaky breath.
And then he pulls back, hand still on Jiang Cheng’s cheek, and looks at him up and down—sees him wanting, needy, with kiss bitten lips and flushed skin—and doesn’t think he’s ugly.
‘A-Cheng,’ Wei Wuxian says, like he’ll never get enough of it, like he’ll never get enough of tasting Jiang Cheng’s name in his mouth.
And then he’s looking at him, seeing all the ways Wei Wuxian has made a mess out of him.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind. Not if it’s Wei Wuxian.
And then he flows, with Wei Wuxian’s hands on his skin and lips on his neck, and lets himself go loose, pliant, entirely trusting of whatever Wei Wuxian wants him to do, wants to do to him—he doesn’t mind. He’s safe, like this.
‘Wanna come now, A-Cheng?’ Wei Wuxian says. He doesn’t know how long this has been going on for, how long they’ve stayed like this, how long Wei Wuxian has teased him and brought Jiang Cheng closer to the edge with his fingers and clever mouth, but he nods. Nods because when this ends Wei Wuxian will hold him and kiss him to sleep, and Jiang Cheng craves the intimacy, the quietness, that comes with it.
It takes a lot for his brain to stop thinking and simply be quiet, and Wei Wuxian is the only one who can help him.
He almost laughs. Ironic, isn’t it.
And yet he holds on, groaning Wei Wuxian’s name as he strokes him to completion, as he tips over the edge with a strangled Wei Wuxian, as his come leaks over his own cock and Wei Wuxian’s cock.
And after that, Wei Wuxian is quick to follow after him, jerking himself off fast and with Jiang Cheng’s come still coating his fingers, whimpering as his come spurts onto Jiang Cheng’s belly.
It’s a matter of getting cleaned up after that. Jiang Cheng lets himself drift as Wei Wuxian dutifully gets some water to wipe both of them off, and then deftly unties the knots holding Jiang Cheng, and then also rubs the spots where he’s sore.
‘Thank you,’ he mumbles when he lies down and Wei Wuxian holds him close, when Wei Wuxian tucks his head over Jiang Cheng’s chin and holds him tight in his arms.
He used to complain about that, long ago. Now—now, it is a comfort, and he can’t, won’t complain, because if he does, he’ll lose this too.
He can’t bear that thought.
‘Sleep, didi,’ Wei Wuxian mumbles, already drowsy, ‘I can hear you thinking. Whatever it is, it’ll be alright.’
Jiang Cheng wants to snort.
But he wants to stay in this little bubble for longer, so he shuts his mouth and snuggles in close, pressing his face to Wei Wuxian’s chest as his mind finally quietens.
It’s a good way to fall asleep.