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bird without wings

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Lan Zhan brushes some stray hair away from Wei Ying’s sleeping face. He looks so relaxed like this, free from the lines and worries that mar his face when he’s awake. His fingertips linger over his arm, trailing down the bare skin. His Wei Ying, here now. After all these years of yearning for someone he thought he couldn’t have, Wei Ying had entered his life again through a chance encounter. 


All because of that car accident that had bedridden Jiang Wanyin for a few months and put his parents in a coma. Wei Ying had been lucky to step out of the car that day, and yet he had blamed himself for their conditions, convinced that if he hadn’t argued with Jiang Wanyin’s mother they would be all fine today. Lan Zhan believes differently. The two family friends’ relationship had been fractured by this accident, and Lan Zhan finds relief in that. If the Jiangs cannot take care of his Wei Ying, then they are not fit to do so.


It’s up to Lan Zhan to care for Wei Ying.


It’s just, Wei Ying is like a bird in a cage, and Lan Zhan had acted hastily. Terrified his Wei Ying would disappear once again, he had drugged him on a visit and carried him away to his home. 


“Wei Ying was stressed and exhausted,” Lan Zhan told Wei Ying quietly when he woke up, wondering where he was. Despite Wei Ying’s height, he had looked so delicate against the king-sized silk sheets of Lan Zhan’s bed. His excuse was only a half-truth, that Wei Ying was indeed terribly sleep-deprived and on edge, but had not collapsed from it, not yet. 


“Thank you, Lan Zhan,” he had said, blearily, before smiling happily when he saw the breakfast spread that had been prepared for him, and started digging in. “Ahhh, Lan Zhan, this tastes so good!” 


Lan Zhan had smiled, watching Wei Ying fondly. He loves to take care of him, protect him. No one could hurt him, not in this carefully controlled bubble where no one could dare touch him. Jiang Wanyin had tried. He had guessed that maybe Lan Zhan, who had suddenly taken leave despite not taking any for years, might have spirited Wei Ying away, and had inundated his secretary with emails and calls. 


Did he think he had a right to ask to see him? After saying cruel things that had left Wei Ying weeping in his arms? No, Lan Zhan would not allow Jiang Wanyin to hurt his Wei Ying anymore. 


Yet there is a problem. 


Wei Ying wants to leave.


“I can’t wait to tell the others about my staycation!” he says cheerfully. Lan Zhan merely says nothing.


But Wei Ying doesn’t understand that what he wants isn’t what’s best for him. He wants to go back out into the cruel world where people won’t appreciate him and want to hurt him. He had been so sweet and allowed Lan Zhan to touch him, sleep with him at first, but then as time went on, the younger man started sleeping with his back to Lan Zhan. He started to refuse food. He tried to escape. 


Doesn’t Wei Ying understand if he escapes, he might never come back the same? How can Lan Zhan let Wei Ying go, when Wei Ying won’t even look after himself properly?


Lan Zhan strokes across Wei Ying’s upper arm, draws a line across it right over the middle of it. 


If a bird wants to fly away, then clip its wings.


If Wei Ying wants to run away, then take his arms and legs. 




Wei Ying had been inconsolable after the accident, blaming himself for their injuries. After the surgery, when the Jiangs were recovering in their hospital beds, Lan Zhan had taken Wei Ying for coffee daily, to talk things over with him. Normally a social worker would be assigned this, but Lan Zhan had a personal stake in it, after all. 


“To be honest, I’m a little envious of you,” admits Wei Ying. 


“What do you mean?” asks Lan Zhan, gaze fixated on him. He breaks eye contact first.


“You’re only a few years older than me, but so much more successful and organised,” says Wei Ying. “You’re a skilled surgeon and you’re so… put together! You have everything!”


Not everything, thinks Lan Zhan. Never had you.


“You’re even handsome,” says Wei Ying, not noticing the way Lan Zhan’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’m sure the ladies go wild for you. That’s not to say I’m not handsome, but you’ve got it all.”


“I don’t notice such things,” says Lan Zhan, feeling mildly irritated. He couldn’t care less what anyone else thought of him, only Wei Ying’s thoughts mattered. 


“Oh, don’t you?” asks Wei Ying, grinning suddenly. His eyes still have dark circles under them, but he looks refreshing with his sunny smile. The one that Lan Zhan had remembered from when they were younger, and fell in love with.


“I only notice you,” says Lan Zhan. 


Wei Ying’s eyes widen before he covers his face. “Lan Zhan… you! You can’t say such things just like that!” 


“It’s true,” says Lan Zhan softly. He had thought of what to say to Wei Ying for years. Everything he couldn’t say before, and wanted to say, he would make sure to let him know. He would spoil Wei Ying, and he could afford to do so even more now than before. 


Bouquets of flowers, anything that Wei Ying wanted to eat, trinkets and rides… at first Wei Ying had denied these, not wanting to be a burden to Lan Zhan, but he had insisted. And then Wei Ying had become used to it, being pampered by Lan Zhan. Not that he minded of course, in fact, that’s what he intended. 


Perhaps he had gone too fast in too short an amount of time, but when he had wanted to date formally, Wei Ying had hesitated, stating that it was not a good time, especially as the Jiangs had not yet completely recovered.


“Doesn’t Wei Ying want to pursue his own happiness too?” asks Lan Zhan, something ugly curling within his heart. 


“Yes,” he says carefully. “But it all happened so fast and… I can’t suddenly be in a relationship when they wake up… Jiang Cheng would…”


Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow, but he drops the subject. Jealousy gnaws at him. Maybe he could bring Wei Ying back to his place, to calm his anger and satisfy the need to completely own his Wei Ying...




In Lan Zhan’s house, he has his own practice in his basement. His most trusted assistants are the only ones who may be there with him. Wei Ying slumbers so peacefully, oxygen mask over his face, electrodes attached to his chest. Gently, Lan Zhan draws dotted lines over where he will make his cuts. Middle of the upper arms, and right above the knees. It’s rather a shame to take away too much of his beautiful limbs, but that’s alright, he will prepare and freeze these and save them for later. It’s too bad that Wei Ying had tried to escape repeatedly after being housed at Lan Zhan’s place, otherwise he would be allowed to keep his arms and legs.


His work has always been admired as precise and clean. He stitches the ends of Wei Ying’s limbs closed. His favourite part was being able to intravenously inject his own blood into Wei Ying’s veins, as there had been quite some blood loss. The thought of him being part of Wei Ying, inside him, sends him nearly giddy, but he keeps calm to finish the surgery. 


It’ll still be a few days before Wei Ying can wake up. Lan Zhan will meticulously change his bandages and wipe him down each day and watch over him. Nothing can happen to him anymore, he won’t allow it. 


When Lan Zhan looks at his beloved, he feels a wave of emotion surge through him, to see Wei Ying finally here. He had always wanted to bring him here, into his own space, where only the two of them could be in their little bubble together. This was something that had been a Lan tradition. A Lan must always take their beloved to their home, no matter what, and claim ownership.


His father had brought his mother home this way, after all, and after every argument he would take her into his bedroom. A young Lan Zhan and his other brother would hear them argue and yell... and then moan and cry. And then everything was fine after. Wasn’t that right?


When Wei Ying first wakes up, he startles, eyes wide and panicky, and Lan Zhan has to administer a sedative. This goes on for several more times, until he doesn’t wake up from a nightmare, and seems relieved to see Lan Zhan. That’s right, that’s the way it should be. 


“Lan Zhan,” he says, his tongue heavy, voice muffled slightly through the oxygen mask. “What happened?” 


He turns and Lan Zhan shushes him softly, brushing fingers over Wei Ying’s cheeks. Wei Ying tries to reach for him, and a frown crosses his face, line between his brows as the weight of his arm seems… wrong. He takes it out from under the bed sheet and looks at the stump remaining, seemingly confused for a few moments. 


“What…” He looks to his other arm, or what’s left of it, lifting it out from under the sheets and seeing it match in length.


“I had to do this.” Lan Zhan’s voice is soft. He tells the truth. Perhaps it would be easier to have told Wei Ying that he had an accident, but Lan Zhan couldn’t lie to his love.


“What is this…” Wei Ying’s voice is high. The monitor starts beating as his heart rate shoots up. “Was… was it the car accident? Did I have to get, a-amputated from the car accident?” 


He looks up at Lan Zhan pleadingly. His memories must be jumbled from shock. Lan Zhan shakes his head. 


“Wei Ying tried to run away. Wei Ying is not allowed to run away.”


His face drains of the remaining colour it had.


“You’re lying… you’re, you’re lying, right? Lan Zhan?” His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised. 


“Would never lie to you,” says Lan Zhan. It’s the truth. Wei Ying trembles for a moment before he tries to get up and off the bed, eyes widening when he realises his legs won’t obey him, either. 


The heart monitor beeps loudly, but Lan Zhan barely hears it, sighing before he administers the sedative. 


“No, please…” begs Wei Ying. “Don’t do this… you… don’t…”


“Everything will be fine,” says Lan Zhan. “Wei Ying is safe with me.”


Wei Ying’s eyes go blank.




It takes a little bit of coaxing, a little bit of screaming, but Wei Ying comes to accept the way things are. Now, he lies on the bed, docile, blinking up at Lan Zhan. He used to fight being fed, but now he allows Lan Zhan to spoon food into his mouth, between those pretty lips. His Wei Ying is a lot more withdrawn now, but it’s something that Lan Zhan accepts. If it means keeping his Wei Ying safe, then what is the problem? 


Wei Ying’s a lot more affectionate. Now that he’s healed, he eagerly spreads his thighs for Lan Zhan, loves to kiss him back sloppily. 


It’s so cute that Lan Zhan can barely handle it. 


Wei Ying whines as Lan Zhan presses him down into the bed, his larger form covering his torso. Lan Zhan’s hands grip Wei Ying’s hips as he drives in between those thighs, raised slightly off the bed. Every time he’s swallowed into that tight heat, he grunts, face tucked into the pretty column of Wei Ying’s neck. The pale skin is marred by kiss marks now. Neither of them mind. Lan Zhan revels in it, marks of his ownership. 


He likes to pin down Wei Ying like this, knowing he’s fully covering the other with his own form. He can feel Wei Ying’s cock against his stomach, the way it slides between their skin. Wei Ying trembles underneath him, the stumps of his arms trying to grab for Lan Zhan’s arms. Sometimes it’s too much for Wei Ying, Lan Zhan forgets his own strength and fucks Wei Ying until he passes out. But today Lan Zhan relents a little, pulling back slightly so he can look down at his Wei Ying’s expressions. 


Wei Ying’s grey eyes are glazed with pleasure and wet, tears leaking down his face as his mouth hangs open, tongue lolling. Saliva slides out from the corners of his lips, and he reaches up with what’s left of his upper arms to touch the ends to Lan Zhan’s cheeks. 


“Lan Zhan,” he begs cutely, rolling his hips clumsily. “Lan Zhan!”


His long fingers grip into those bony hips, knowing he’ll leave finger-shaped bruises. 


“Wei Ying is so tight for me,” he says quietly, panting slightly as he presses his own thighs down to pin Wei Ying’s to the bed. Looking down, he sees where they’re connected, his own cock stretching open Wei Ying’s hole, red and slick. A mix of lube and thick strings of his own cum are dislodged and drip out onto the bed. There’s the slightest of bumps in Wei Ying’s flat stomach, indicating where Lan Zhan’s cock is, and every time he thrusts, the bump undulates with his movements. 


“Lan Zhan…” moans Wei Ying, wriggling underneath him. Lan Zhan leans down to kiss him sloppily, thrusting his tongue inside of Wei Ying’s mouth. Wei Ying tries to hold his face in place with his arms. Lan Zhan loves to indulge in this daily, fucking Wei Ying until he’s satisfied. Most days, that’s more than three times a session. 


Suddenly, Wei Ying sobs, clamping down around Lan Zhan’s cock, causing him to grunt as the pressure squeezes another orgasm out of him, spilling inside. Wei Ying’s eyes roll back and he slumps against the bed, exhausted. He lays there, panting for a little, before his breathing grows steady.


But Lan Zhan’s not satisfied yet.


The sight of his weak and helpless Wei Ying underneath him has him fired up again, and he wraps his arms around that cute little waist, before slamming his cock in again, slick noises of his movement filling the air. He won’t be satisfied until he’s thoroughly bred Wei Ying for the day again. 


An hour later, he pulls out, marvelling at the sight of his own cum dribbling out from Wei Ying’s lax hole. Fresh kiss and bite marks overlap fading ones on that pale skin, a sheen of sweat gleaming over all of it. The stumps of his arms and legs are also so charming to him, rounded at the ends and covered in bandages. Ah, he has to change those again. Lan Zhan picks his sleeping beauty up and carries him to their bathroom. 




There are people who try to stop them, of course. Jiang Wanyin comes knocking. Jiang Yanli has visited twice. Jiang Wanyin is accusatory, furious. His older sister is softer spoken. But Lan Zhan knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s scrutinised more closely. 


So he packs up. He funnels his money to an offshore bank, ensures that his assistants are paid well and sent away overseas, and then he’s gone too. He and Wei Ying don’t need to deal with people who come looking, they’ve lost the right to visit. There is only room for each other.



A cool breeze drifts through the window. He doesn’t like the warm weather, but he knows that Wei Ying is partial to it. Perhaps they could move to a colder place in a few years. Wei Ying is already better now. He even hums songs now. It’s one that Lan Zhan wrote a long time ago. 


Lan Zhan’s arms are wrapped loosely around Wei Ying’s shoulders. They’re nude, pressed together while seated on the sofa, Wei Ying seated on Lan Zhan’s lap. He gently bounces himself on top of him, singing happily as he balances on the ends of his thighs. The wet noises his hole makes as he enthusiastically bobs is obscene, but Lan Zhan loves to hear it, proof that Wei Ying and him are connected. No sound is as lovely as when Wei Ying moans his name out, throwing his head back happily and laughing as Lan Zhan’s hands slide down to grab what’s left of his upper arms. His large hands stroke over the scarred skin of the tips. 


“Is Wei Ying happy?” murmurs Lan Zhan. 


“Yes!” he says, leaning forward and nuzzling Lan Zhan’s neck. “I’m the happiest.”


“If Wei Ying is happy, I’m happy,” says Lan Zhan. 


For that was the only thing he had ever wanted: to be happy with Wei Ying, in a place he could call their home.