Chapter Text
“Ah, husband, so rough! This poor little wife can’t handle it,” whines a plaintive, jaw-clenchingly familiar voice. In between the words is the slap-slap-slap of skin on skin. All only slightly muffled, it’s loud enough to cut through the fog in his head. The remnant of another sordid dream no doubt. He tries to break out of sleep - eyes slam open when his wrists tugs against some unknown restraint, meridians locked tight.
Flushed skin, bodies intertwined - he blinks. Wei Wuxian, on a bed, body folded damn near in half. That bastard husband of his has those long, long legs pulled up on his shoulders. What a sight to be greeted with. His half-awake mind staggers. Falls to a halt. He can’t stop staring. Eyes teary, head thrown back, Wei Wuxian’s body is being dragged back and forth along the mattress with every thrust. Lan Wangji pounds him into the bed with unrelenting force.
Jiang Cheng is unwillingly mesmerised. Wei Wuxian’s wrists lay limply together above his head, like they were caught up in a tight grip and he’s too stupid drunk off cock to realise he isn’t being held still anymore.
“Wei Ying can take it,” grunts the second jade of the Lans belatedly. His movements slow, grinding into Wei Wuxian with steady deliberation. The little slut starts sobbing.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I really can’t. Three times in one night is far too much,” he whimpers, hips betraying his words as he desperately pushes back, tries to fuck himself faster on Lan Wangji’s length. It’s no use; Lan Wangji grips his waist, holding him near completely still.
The air is filled with panting and choked sobs as they stop moving entirely. It's clearly driving Wei Wuxian mad. He wiggles on his husband's cock, pounding his fist against the bed with wordless noises of protest. Tears glint in the sunlight that spills through their window.
This pause in the action has Jiang Cheng finally waking up fully. What the fuck is he doing here? Taking note of his state, he finds himself gagged and tied down to a chair. The sight before him is visible through some large window into what must be Lan Wangji’s own bedroom. The last thing he remembers is drinking, specifically because he ran into this vulgar pair on a nighthunt and was frustrated into chewing Wei Wuxian out and leaving. Just who the fuck did this to him? Possibilities run through his mind, the burning flames of outrage and arousal filling his core.
Before he can think any further though, Wei Wuxian’s voice cuts through: “Come oooon. Lan Zhan, husband, Er-gege please!” he begs petulantly, leaning up on his arms to try and help his argument, but his husband doesn’t yield. Apparently, this only spurs the man deeper into his shameless depravity - he lays back, looking put-upon. “I was sooo close. Doesn’t Lan Zhan want to fill me up? Imagine if someone overhears us, they might get the idea that you’re not satisfying your poor little wife enough, bullying me like this. What if some brute decides to just steal me away thinking he could do better, since Lan Zhan won’t even get his poor little A-Ying pregnant? You’ve already had your way with me, can’t you just let this poor, lowly wife have the honour of carrying your heir?” he babbles, one hand going down to caress his belly, the other reaching down to where he and Lan Wangji are joined together. A small, choked noise escapes Lan Wangji. “I think one more time will really do it, Lan Zhan. Won’t you please just fill your Wei Ying with your seed?”
That question seems to be what does it; Lan Wangji rips out of him, tosses Wei Wuxian onto his hands and knees. He drives inside again, so brutally it forces a sharp squeal from Wei Wuxian’s mouth. Apparently, despite a pathetically strong fear for canines, he loves being mounted like a bitch. His mouth hangs open, gasping with every violent jerk of his body.
“Mer - cy! Lan Zha - ahn, have mercy,” Wei Wuxian yelps. “Bullyi - ing! Too brutal!! Husband!!!” he cries, voice tight with bliss as the other mouths at his neck. Their bodies are facing towards him in this position - not that he’s seeing much of anything when they’re curled up like animals. All he sees is Wei Wuxian’s pathetically broken in face, his elbows locked holding him up, a glimpse of his flushed-pink collarbones, shining with sweat and eminently biteable.
Wei Wuxian’s continuous whining seems to get to the ‘righteous, untouchable’ Hanguang-jun; he pulls back and, stood up on his knees over Wei Wuxian, tangles a hand in his hair. His every movement grows more ruthless somehow. “You like it,” he grunts as he tugs Wei Wuxian’s hair harshly. Wei Wuxian shakes his head, sobbing unintelligible protests. Tears stream down his cheeks. “You do. Wei Ying loves it,” he insists sternly, almost sounding as if he were scolding a rowdy disciple, were it not for the roughness in his voice.
Somewhere along the way, Wei Wuxian’s protests have turned to praise. Not that there’s much difference, save which words are half-spoken before Lan Wangji rams them into sluttish moans.
His form tenses - shudders. Lan Wangji pulls him off the bed by his hair. Bare back pressed to his husband’s chest, shuddering and whimpering, Wei Wuxian is on full display. His waist jolts with the forceful slaps of Lan Wangji’s hips against his ass. His cock is wet, clearly already having come once. All that skin, flushed a delicate pink and glistening with sweat - it makes Jiang Cheng’s fingers itch, nails pressing into his palms. The gag is soaked with drool. He clenches his fist tight as Hanguang-jun’s fingers dig into the soft, yielding flesh at Wei Wuxian’s hip.
“Look at yourself,” Lan Wangji murmurs, slowing his pace yet again. His hand leaves Wei Wuxian’s hair, to take a gentle hold of his neck. Those soft eyes blow wide open - for half a second Jiang Cheng thinks they’re staring right at him. Then Wei Wuxian’s gaze roves up and down, mouth falling open.
“I look…” Wei Wuxian trails off, stare locking somewhere above Jiang Cheng’s head. Blinking dumbfounded for a moment, the muddled, tied-up man tears his burning gaze away to look at the edges of the ‘window’ - there, the telltale carvings of what must be some sort of illusion array. Wei Wuxian has no idea he’s being watched. He clearly thinks he’s just looking at a huge mirror. Those peachy lips are parted, cheeks somehow blushing an even brighter scarlet as he takes in the sight and hesitates over his words. It’s understandable with what kind of sight he makes right now. Jiang Cheng’s hips try to buck, failing against the ropes holding him in place.
Before Wei Wuxian can say anything, Lan Wangji’s thrusts get faster again. “Wei Ying looks desperate,” he murmurs, smugness somehow oozing through his damned monotone. Wei Wuxian’s whole body seems to tremble with the force. He stops paying attention to the illusion Jiang Cheng is hidden behind, seems to lose the ability to pay attention to anything. Eyes rolled back, flushed cheeks damp with tears. His chest quivering as he whines, gasps for air. He looks the perfect picture of a wanton whore.
Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, and the image is still burnt into his mind. With the other man involved being as quiet as he is, the air is filled with only Wei Wuxian’s sweet sounds. Jiang Cheng finds himself slipping into an old, familiar, dreamed-up reality.
He’d accompany a couple disciples for a nighthunt in one of their fathers’ towns. They would deal with some pathetic demonic cultivator or other pretending he hasn’t been making trouble. Like usual any time, dealing with all the hysterically demanding townspeople would test his patience, until he could’t help snapping. Like usual in this imagined time, his vivacious right-hand would intervene, jump in with an arm on his shoulder and yap away the tension for the moment. It’d be enough for them to take the words of gratitude and return to Lotus Pier. Of course, his frustration wouldn’t be relieved just yet - his subordinate would recognise it in him as he ordered the disciples to the training grounds. Jiang Cheng’s right-hand would tell the disciples to go work on their mistakes and divert him away to his quarters.
Of course, he couldn’t just tolerate being undermined like that without saying a word. Wei Wuxian would laugh in response to his harsh scolding, airily dodging a punch to the shoulder. Would shamelessly drag Jiang Cheng into his bedroom, tittering “Wouldn’t Jiang-zongzhu prefer to spend his time on something more fun?”
Jiang Cheng would shove his most trusted down on the bed, stare down at this close-kept treasure. He’d see the want in his subordinate’s eyes, in that small, bashful smile - Wei Wuxian wants this. His Wei Wuxian seduced him because the man wants to be taken, wants to be broken in. Wants to stay and take what Jiang Cheng gives him with desperate desire. Wants to never leave. Jiang Cheng reaches forward to tear off those robes and take exactly what is owed to him, as he should’ve been doing all this time and-
“Ah, Er-gege, it’s so much. You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” moans Wei Wuxian loudly, shattering the pale image. Jiang Cheng opens his eyes.
Wei Wuxian is grinning wide, grabbing his husband’s hand to pull it up from his hip. He presses it against his stomach. “Feel that Lan Zhan. Look, you’re so deep in me you can feel it from the other side. I’m really ruined. After so many times, my insides are all carved out just for you to use. Er-gege, Lan Zhan, you made me into a perfect sleeve for your cock,” - he throws his head back - “husband, I really need it. Do you think you can get any deeper if you tr-” his rapid babbling is cut off with a choked noise; Lan Wangji bites into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder as he fucks into him fervently. He pulls his hand from Wei Wuxian’s grip just to sharply tug at his nipple. It induces another whine.
Jiang Cheng is bewitched; Wei Wuxian wasn’t just talking shit. His belly really is distended ever so slightly with his husband’s every thrust. It’s not like the Jiang Clan’s head was specifically looking when he had a better view, but his mind keeps drifting to the peripheral awareness he now has that Lan Wangji is better endowed than him. It shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t actually want to try and compete with him over anything. Fists tighten.
The couple’s bodies pull tense. Their motions grow harder, rigid. Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth on the damp fabric. Wei Wuxian’s musical moans are high and gleeful and more passionate than anything his head ever dreamed up.
A wailing sob. A harsh shove in. “Lan Zhan,” shrieks Wei Wuxian, coming again with a pathetic little spurt. He goes limp, head slumped back against his husband’s shoulder. Lan Wangji grips his hips, pace unrelenting even with Wei Wuxian whimpering in delicate oversensitivity. He goes harder and the moans get louder.
When Wei Wuxian lets out a desperate cracking sob, Lan Wangji falters, eyes darkening. He speeds up. Once, twice more and he jolts against Wei Wuxian, rams inside and stays there. Heaving breaths break the silence. After a long moment, he tenderly shifts Wei Wuxian’s body to lay down on the bed.
Eyes glazing over, Jiang Cheng loses any attention to spare for whatever insipidly saccharine care gets administered. He belatedly notices that his pants are wet. When did that happen?
The last thing he sees before being pulled back into heavy, unnatural slumber is the talismanic glow on the back of his right hand.
༻⚕༺
He wakes up in the middle of a forest. Any trace of what happened is gone, save an untidy appearance, rope-marks beneath his clothes and a note. Fine paper rolled up and neatly tied to his wrist. Jiang Cheng opens it. Inside, it reads:
Do not succumb to rage
Do not praise yourself and slander others
Do not covet the property of others
If others win over you, do not envy