Work Header

i’m not shy (make you sigh)

Work Text:

Wei Wuxian leans toward the mirror to adjust his tie, blowing a strand of hair out of his face with a huff. He’s been at this ridiculously fancy party for almost an hour (seriously, so fancy, the hand soaps in the bathroom are shaped like little seashells and for some reason, rabbits?), he’s barely even buzzed, and he hasn’t met anyone fun enough to justify being at this stuffy rich-person party. He hopes Jiang Cheng appreciates this. 

At least he looks good. He stands back from the mirror to appreciate himself: black on black suit, slim fitting to accentuate his height, silk at the lapels to flash in the light and break up the visual texture. The only piece of color on him is the blood-red tie, which his brother insisted he wear “so it doesn’t look like you’re going to a fucking funeral, Wei Wuxian, I swear, am I the only one with style in this family?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and grins at himself in the mirror. Not all of Jiang Cheng’s ideas are bad.

While his little brother may have a killer sense of fashion (he’s the heir to the Jiang Couturier, after all), this party is not one of Jiang Cheng’s better ideas, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion. Sure, everyone is dressed to the nines, so there’s plenty to look at (men as well as women, Wei Wuxian isn’t picky that way), but for a fancy rich-people party, there’s annoyingly little alcohol to be found, and everyone he’s talked to so far has been boring as hell. 

It doesn’t help that Wei Wuxian hasn’t been a part of the Jiang family business for years. Instead of joining the couturier with his adopted siblings, he spent the last few years sort of doing his own thing. 

His own thing, easiest described as “artist” but encompassing everything from building horrifying sculptures out of trash from the dump that accidentally traumatized people at more than a few shows (honestly, who could have seen that coming? It’s their trash, after all) to an artistic endeavor that’s brought him even more notoriety, albeit the anonymous kind— Wei Wuxian absolutely loves making street art. 

He does intense, expressionistic pieces with a singular theme, most notably in places so dangerous and difficult to access that no other artist would dare to paint there. It’s a thrilling challenge, one Wei Wuxian’s become kind of addicted to: designing the perfect concept for the location, staking out the place to figure out the best way in, and of course, sneaking in under cover of night to paint a masterpiece in the dark without getting caught or accidentally falling ten stories to his death. 

It may not be the most stable or sane hobby, but nothing else he does gives him half as much satisfaction. He thinks the hyper-realistic black hole on the side of the new tech highrise, slowly leaking blood into the neighborhood below, is probably his greatest achievement to date.

He gets hired to do regular murals too, so his identity is sort of what you’d call an open secret, for anyone who’s halfway paying attention. He’s ok with that. He hasn’t been arrested yet, anyway.

So between the semi-respectable art that sometimes causes people to faint in galleries, to the definitely not respectable art that he probably shouldn’t talk about around people with too much power and money if he knows what’s good for him, Wei Wuxian is at a little bit of a loss as to why he’s even here. It’s not even a fashion party. He grew up with the Jiangs; those he knows how to handle. But not this.

“That’s the problem with perfume people, Jiang Cheng.” He saunters back to his brother’s side, not bothering to lower his voice at all, and swirls his fancy cocktail, which is as clear as water and might actually be water, as far as he can tell. “They’re too old-fashioned. Does anyone cool wear perfume? Is there anyone cool here you can introduce me to?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes sideways before turning towards him. “Wei Wuxian. Please shut up for five seconds before you blow this for me, ok? I’m here to make professional contacts. Does that mean anything to you? The Lans are the most respected perfume house in the entire fucking country, probably. We’ve never been anything more than cordial with them. I’m here to change that tonight, which is why you’re here, asshole. Aren’t you supposed to be the charming one, for fuck’s sake?”

Wei Wuxian answers him by bursting into laughter so hard that he has to grasp his brother’s shoulder in order to keep his balance, which Jiang Cheng does not take kindly to, given his mood. 

“My little didi, all grown up and making professional contacts— cursing out the fancy rich perfume people until they agree to be his friends—”

“Shut UP— do something useful for a change, quit LAUGHING—” 

As Wei Wuxian gulps for air, attempting to recover from his little brother’s impeccable comedic timing, he catches a sudden molten scent that slides into his senses like something both sweet and lethal. Oh. What is that? 

It’s— the faint smoke-crackle of incense, the warm mellow smell of something sweet and woodsy, like honey, but somehow alcoholic and.. musky? He inhales sharply. All of a sudden, he feels drunk. What the fuck? Maybe that drink really did have alcohol in it.

“What the fuck?”

“What the fuck, what? Quit grabbing my sleeve, I’m not holding you up all night even if you do get drunk.”

Jiang Cheng continues to grouse even after Wei Wuxian releases him, but he doesn’t really hear what he’s saying. 

A few paces away, the crowd has parted, and it feels like time is slowing down, like Wei Wuxian is a fly trapped in amber, a bee helpless before the scent of the world’s most intoxicating nectar, because there in front of him, just a few steps away—

Is the most beautiful ass he’s ever seen. 

To be fair, he supposes he can’t really be sure. What he does see is a silky midnight blue gown, gathered to a narrow waist, rippling tantalizingly downward as the wearer of the gown moves, dark liquid-like fabric spilling over the swell of an ass that looks pretty perfect to Wei Wuxian. 

The person turns, straight-backed, a heavy fall of dark hair sliding over one shoulder as he makes some small elegant gesture, and his profile comes into view. 

Wei Wuxian’s heart stops.

“Who,” he says, and has to stop and try again because his throat closes for a second, like he’s actually forgotten how to speak. “Who is that?”

“Who?” Jiang Cheng glances up and then away carelessly, as though he’s not bearing witness to the most beautiful person who’s ever lived. “Oh, that’s Lan Wangji.” And he actually keeps talking, as though Wei Wuxian could care less about anything else in this moment. He tries to look away so that he won’t be caught staring, but his gaze keeps getting pulled back like a magnet. He watches as Lan Wangji gives his head an emphatic little shake at something his conversation partner is saying. A vivid blue flower shaped like a star rests in the black fall of his hair, just behind one ear.

—”it would be great if you could go talk to him, actually. He’s some kind of genius, mixing scents that are revolutionizing the perfume world and putting the stuffy-ass Lans back on the map. He’s supposed to be really hard to talk to, though. A total introvert. Probably stuck up.”

Wei Wuxian nods amiably, as though this makes perfect sense to him. “He knows he’s better than everyone else here. I mean, look at him, Jiang Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng snorts and rolls his eyes, which is totally typical, honestly. For the heir of a fashion brand, Wei Wuxian’s little brother has a shocking lack of appreciation for male beauty. 

“If you’re going to embarrass yourself anyway, do your best to make our case, ok? I’m counting on you.”

Jiang Cheng punches his shoulder a little too hard, and promptly turns and walks away into the crowd, leaving Wei Wuxian a little off balance and completely bereft of a reason to still be standing here staring in the direction of the famed, talented, absurdly gorgeous second Jade of the Lan perfume house. 

And he notices. Of course he does.

Up until this moment, Wei Wuxian might have guessed that Lan Wangji’s gaze would be cold, given how statuesque and composed he looks, given everything Jiang Cheng had just told him. 

But those eyes are— well, to be honest, Wei Wuxian can feel the heat in his gaze even from here. As Lan Wangji angles his head down ever so slightly, perhaps to signal that he is in fact looking back at Wei Wuxian, the light strikes one low cheekbone just so, and the flare of gold around his dark irises sears into Wei Wuxian like an outer space photo of the sun ringed in fire. 

Abruptly, before Wei Wuxian can react, Lan Wangji spins and walks away, the skirt of his dress swirling behind him as he disappears past a group of men in tuxes. Wei Wuxian notices that his conversation partner, a man in a bland blue suit, looks completely dumbstruck by this. 

Wei Wuxian almost bursts into laughter. Oh, this is going to be fun.



Wei Wuxian takes a deep inhale and bites his lip. 

He’s passing through the same crowd of people Lan Wangji disappeared into a few minutes ago, and the scent of him still lingers, faint and smoky, silken and lush, a cool whisper distinct from the louder smells, the sugar and alcohol and showy floral perfumes that fill the air of the party. 

Every trace left in his wake sends an answering ripple through Wei Wuxian, a stirring that pools low and hot in his abdomen. He sort of wishes he were somewhere else because he really doesn’t want to be this horny in public, but he’s never one to back down from a challenge, especially not one issued with a single glance from the most brutally gorgeous man he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. 

Since he began his quest Wei Wuxian has been waylaid by three different acquaintances, and he’s polite enough, but he can barely focus on the conversations. He’s usually a pretty friendly person, but his mood has shifted ever since he made eye contact with Lan Wangji. He feels volcanic, like he’s gone loose and molten, flowing helplessly downhill to the only thing that matters. 

He wonders if the silk of Lan Wangji’s dress would be cool or hot to the touch. If the thin fabric would be warmed by his body. How it would slide over his skin if he were close enough to touch, to wrap his hand around that perfect ass and—

It’s as he squeezes past a woman in a pale gold dress (who for some reason is gesturing at the man across from her as though brandishing an invisible sword) that Wei Wuxian sees him. Closer than before, almost right in front of him. He can’t believe his luck. 

Lan Wangji is mostly turned away from Wei Wuxian, and the open back of his dress parts elegantly to his waist, baring a pale expanse of lean muscle. His hair is swept over one shoulder, winglike scapulae and the delicate shells of his spine visible. Below, the skirt of the dress shimmers dark as a pool of deep water, drawing him in.

This time, Lan Wangji is surrounded by a group of overeager teenagers who seem to be all talking at once. Head bowed, expression still, he looks to be listening to them with his full attention, occasionally making a small serious nod. It’s kind of cute. Oh, fuck. It’s very cute.

Wei Wuxian feels punched in the chest by how cute he is. When he first saw him, Lan Wangji was fully armored, firm and dismissive, but there’s something about his posture and patient attentiveness now that cracks something open in Wei Wuxian. He no longer looks untouchable. Like this, he looks almost— vulnerable. Not a cold and composed figure of jade, just soft and human.

Wei Wuxian can see the exact moment Lan Wangji becomes aware of his presence, long dark eyes sliding over to him, lips parting slightly. 

Wei Wuxian seizes his chance. Smiling roguishly, he sidles up to Lan Wangji, all the while doing his best not to let that warm silken scent overwhelm him. He feels a little out of his depth, and Lan Wangji seems like the type to see through Wei Wuxian’s bullshit in a second, so:

“Hey! Hi. Has anyone ever told you that you smell really good?”

For an instant, he looks frozen. And then, Wei Wuxian sees one corner of his mouth slide up in what is unmistakably a tiny smirk. “You are the first.”

Oh, fuck. His voice. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t— ok. He sounds all soft and smooth and bass-deep like some kind of sexy whale, but everything’s fine. Wei Wuxian can handle it.

“Wow! Really? What an honor. I mean, I have a lot more compliments I could give you, honestly, should I just keep going? You look unbelievable in that dress. Seriously, you look like you invented wearing dresses, which, like, I grew up in a fashion house so that’s saying something. And your—”

“Please.” Wei Wuxian feels a little flutter in his chest as he notices that Lan Wangji’s ears are turning pink right before his eyes. “Stop talking.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh at that. So polite yet so blunt. As he tilts his head back with laughter, he dimly registers that the teenagers who were talking to Lan Wangji when he walked up are now standing mortified, frozen like little statues.

Lan Wangji, who had been gazing pointedly ahead, his eyes trained away from Wei Wuxian for the entirety of this exchange, turned his head towards him when he started laughing and is now staring openly at him, lips gently parted, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. 

It’s a surprisingly open expression, and it makes Wei Wuxian feel hopeful. 

“Ah, I can’t promise to stop talking, but I can change the subject? I’m Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying. I don’t know anything about perfume and I’m here because my brother thinks I’m charming. Which is obviously misguided.”

Wei Wuxian smiles cheerfully at Lan Wangji, continuing to completely ignore the half-stunned, half-irate children who are stuck listening to this, and watches as Lan Wangji fails to introduce himself and instead swallows, noticeably, the visible movement of his Adam’s apple betraying him. Huh.

His ears are still pink. Wei Wuxian really didn’t think it would be this easy to shake his composure. He seemed so ferocious, so untouchable, before. That hadn’t stopped Wei Wuxian from wanting to touch him, of course. 

He leans forward slightly, taking advantage of the scant few centimeters of height that he has on Lan Wangji, and observes his reaction. 

His eyes widen a little as he looks up at Wei Wuxian without moving his head, just turning those beautiful dark eyes up to him, with their secret spark of gold in the center, the fire hidden by his cool exterior. He blinks once, slowly, and then Wei Wuxian sees him— sees him lift his chin and, just visibly, run the very edge of his tongue along his lips.

The loose, half-formed ideas that have been sliding around inside Wei Wuxian since he first laid eyes on Lan Wangji begin blooming rapidly into full-fledged fantasies. Wei Wuxian, sliding that long dark hair away from Lan Wangji’s graceful neck, biting that perfect white Adam's apple. Stepping closer and wrapping his arm around that narrow waist, pinning him tight to his body, and slipping his hand under that long skirt—

It’s at this moment that someone crashes into Wei Wuxian from the side, forcing him to fully catch them in his arms so they don’t both end up flat on the floor.  

“Oh my god! Sorry, sorry!” The woman in the pale gold dress is in his arms, yelling an apology directly into Wei Wuxian’s face. Once he recovers from the initial shock, he understands that he’s half-kneeling with his arms wrapped around a total stranger, who would probably have a mild concussion right now if it weren’t for his ridiculous reflexes. 

“Um. No worries, just. Be careful, I guess? No fist fighting at the party, or whatever. I feel like that should be pretty obvious.” Wei Wuxian shrugs gamely and rises to stand, planting the woman in gold back onto her feet in one smooth movement. She actually has the audacity to laugh, as though she didn’t just wipe out in the middle of the fanciest party Wei Wuxian has ever been to. 

She clasps her hands together at one side of her face, still giggling. “My hero! Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

“Ordinarily I never say no to a drink from a violent woman, but I’m kind of in the middle of— hey— oh, shit.” 

Wei Wuxian turns to where Lan Wangji was standing mere seconds ago, before Wei Wuxian dramatically caught a woman in his arms. He’s already fled, a wave of scent washing over Wei Wuxian from the displaced air of his movement, the crowd closing in his wake like they’re conspiring against Wei Wuxian.

The group of teenagers is still there, appearing varying degrees of incredulous and thrilled by what just took place. As Wei Wuxian watches, one of them actually mimes fainting into the arms of another, and they both dissolve into cackling.

“Great. Cool. Yeah, no drink for me, but you definitely owe me one.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t track her response, because he’s already leaving to follow Lan Wangji again, in the only direction he could have gone. Wei Wuxian really hopes he doesn’t give him a reason to run away this time.



By the time Wei Wuxian catches up to Lan Wangji, the sun is setting, painting the air in haze and fire, turning the massive high-ceilinged event space of the Lan perfume house into a shrine to golden hour. 

Lan Wangji is draped over the edge of the balcony overlooking the garden, the last embers of the sunset blazing at his back, lining his figure in gold. His arms are spread to the sides, resting atop the railing behind him, his head tilted, long hair spilling over one shoulder.

What Wei Wuxian wouldn’t give to see how Lan Wangji’s ass looks from below in the garden: pressed up against the metal railing, soft flesh framed perfectly between the hard press of the bars. He wants to see it. He wants to grip it with both hands and bite.

In the breeze from the open balcony, Lan Wangji’s scent is everywhere, warm and intoxicating. Wei Wuxian wants to know what he smells like up close, wants to learn the smell of his body underneath the smoky scent he wears.

As he steps closer, the sounds of the party fall away, and there is only this moment, the charge in the air between them, an all-consuming force that turns his limbs warm and buzzing and pulls Wei Wuxian forward into Lan Wangji’s orbit.

He lifts his eyes, slowly, devastatingly, to look at Wei Wuxian, and that’s it. His breath dies in his chest, time stands utterly still, all there is is Lan Wangji, the most beautiful, strange, interesting man he’s ever met, and he wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone in his whole life. 

“You. Um. You’re. Hi.” Tragically, this might be the first time Wei Wuxian has been at a complete loss for words.

Lan Wangji smirks again, his eyes crinkling slightly this time, letting the expression show fully with no one to witness it but Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t deign to reply with words.

Instead, he reaches forward and seizes Wei Wuxian by his tie, and gives it a sharp little tug.

Wei Wuxian’s body reacts as though Lan Wangji had reached out and grabbed his cock. He’s abruptly, feverishly aware that he’s growing hard inside the tight trousers of his suit. 

He swallows compulsively against the pressure on his throat, and looks down into Lan Wangji’s dark eyes, and thinks about how close they are, how easily he could lean forward and—

And then Lan Wangji leans forward instead and bites him. 

A gasp escapes from Wei Wuxian at the sharp little burst of pain. He feels his bottom lip split, and for an instant, the heady scent of Lan Wangji’s perfume mingles with the sharp tang of blood. Lan Wangji releases his lip and slowly, almost tenderly, extends his pink tongue and runs it gently over the wound, raising his eyes as he does it, watching Wei Wuxian watch him.

Something in Wei Wuxian snaps, and he surges forward, one hand pulling Lan Wangji towards him by the small of his back, the other fisting in his hair as Wei Wuxian sucks Lan Wangji’s questing tongue into his own mouth, sealing their lips together into a kiss made slick with his blood.

Nothing else matters right now, only the taste of him, the little sound he makes when Wei Wuxian’s mouth touches his, the way he angles his head and presses forward into Wei Wuxian, sliding his hand up Wei Wuxian’s chest to the side of his neck, thumb resting over the point of his pulse, which is rapidly accelerating as the kiss continues. 

When he breaks the kiss Wei Wuxian can’t help the way he chases after Lan Wangji, only to be met with a finger pressed against his lips, stroking lightly over his bruised bottom lip, which is swollen and hot to the touch. Wei Wuxian lets him.

Lan Wangji is looking at him with lips parted, ears and cheekbones flushed, eyes slightly unfocused as though dazed from kissing. He’s so fucking cute like this.

“Come with me,” he breathes, and Wei Wuxian leans into the finger on his lip and smiles, because he knows that at this moment he would follow Lan Wangji anywhere.



Wei Wuxian is lost. Not literally (although he probably couldn’t find his way back to the party even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t). It’s just that Lan Wangji is right there in front of him, pressed up against his own workbench where Wei Wuxian has been kissing him senseless for the past few minutes, a dark pink flush across his cheekbones (so unbelievably cute), the silky skirt of his dress pushed up over one long leg, revealing what he’s wearing underneath, and Wei Wuxian’s brain has gone into complete shutdown.

Lan Wangji is wearing sleek, pearl-white boots that hug his long legs perfectly, with chunky platform heels that only serve to exaggerate the grace of his lean musculature. Ok, but that’s not even— he’s wearing lingerie. Cute lingerie, lace and sheer mesh, cream-colored, with garters and everything, and the clips on the garters are shaped like the heads of tiny bunny rabbits. They even have fuzzy little ears. 

“What?” Lan Wangji is just as pink as before, but now his hands are also gripping the edge of the table. Wei Wuxian realizes he’s been staring for too long, that in fact he’d fallen to his knees, as though preparing to worship the beautiful man in front of him.

He’s been far too quiet in his admiration, which usually isn’t a problem for him, but this man is overturning all of his easy confidence with the sheer, well, everything about him. “Lan Wangji.” His throat locks for a second, but he powers through it. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Lan Wangji looks away, his ears practically glowing now. “Call me—” he breaks off as though ashamed, which Wei Wuxian really doesn’t want— he hastens to reach out, to run a reverent hand up that smooth thigh, warm beneath the sheer soft lace. He smiles softly. “Call you what?” 

“Call me— Lan Zhan.” He doesn’t turn his head back toward Wei Wuxian, but his eyes move, and his throat bobs as though he’s holding back a feeling too large to express. 

Wei Wuxian’s smile overtakes him so suddenly he feels helpless in the force of it. “Lan Zhan,” he repeats, his voice deepening with want. He leans forward towards Lan Wangji’s lap, which is conveniently located at face level, and looks up at him to make sure—

But as always, Lan Wangji is one step ahead of him, already sliding his hand into Wei Wuxian’s hair, pulling it tight and pleasant against his scalp as he works his fingers into Wei Wuxian’s high ponytail. 

Looking down at Wei Wuxian, the soft light of the studio starring behind his head, eyes lowered and dark with want, he says “Yes,” and Wei Wuxian takes him at his word.

Inhaling deeply, Wei Wuxian slides both hands up Lan Wangji’s thighs, lifting the slippery folds of his dress, nuzzling the warm soft stretch of his inner thigh. Above his head he hears a soft gasp, half-stifled, and responds by sliding his hands under Lan Wangji’s legs, lifting them onto his own shoulders, and gripping his ass, all too aware of how the thin straps of the garters are digging into that soft flesh. Lan Wangji breathes deeply, his hand tight in Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian wants to hear more of those sounds, he wants to make it so that Lan Wangji can’t hold back at all.    

His hands full of Lan Wangji’s ass, Wei Wuxian massages deep into that rounded flesh, circling his hands, gently spreading his cheeks and then squeezing them together, pressing his own face forward into the crotch of Lan Wangji’s lacy panties. Here at the root of him, a little musk mixed with the scent of his own perfume, he smells sweaty and sweet like salted caramel. 

He hikes Lan Wangji’s dress a little higher, pulling him closer, and mouths along Lan Wangji’s cock through the thin lace. It’s straining against the sheer fabric, visibly dark and full, so hot against his lips and nose. Right at the tip it’s damp and a little sticky, the fabric dark and wet, and Wei Wuxian hums happily against it, darting his tongue out to take a taste, his hands still working Lan Wangji’s ass all the while.

It’s at this point that Lan Wangji lets out a sound that can only be described as a whimper. Wei Wuxian glances up at him to see that his eyes are scrunched shut, his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Mm. Lan Zhan. Don’t hold back, ok? I want to hear you.” Lan Wangji swallows and opens his eyes to look at him, and Wei Wuxian feels that look shoot straight down through him to settle between his legs, where his cock is already pulsing hotly with the thought of all he wants to do to this man.

With that, Wei Wuxian slips his fingers a little further in, sliding them over Lan Wangji’s hole, warm and already a bit slick with sweat. “Yes,” Lan Wangji whispers, his deep soft voice a little shaky, and Wei Wuxian hums at the encouragement, sliding one hand back around to the front to tug Lan Wangji’s lace panties down, letting them tighten over his cock for an instant before it bounces free. Wei Wuxian sighs happily as though greeting a good friend, ducks expertly under Lan Wangji’s panties as he removes them completely, and returns Lan Wangji’s legs to their previous position bent over Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.

Leaning into the pleasant weight of Lan Wangji’s lower half draped over him, thighs framing his face, Wei Wuxian spits into his hand and goes to work, wet fingers slowly circling Lan Wangji’s asshole where it’s lifted half off the table, other hand stroking slowly along Lan Wangji’s beautiful dark cock as Wei Wuxian guides it slowly toward his mouth. 

Lan Wangji manages to make an affronted little sound through his increasingly desperate breathing, and scrabbles for something on the shelf behind him, extracting a small glass jar from among the myriad bottles and vials arranged there. “I have—”

Wei Wuxian seizes it delightedly, a sudden thought rising in him. “Lan Zhan. Do you make your own lube? Do you keep it in here with all of your perfume stuff just in case? Lan Zhan, how many times have you—” 

“Shut up,” Lan Wangji cuts in, wide eyes and pink ears signalling his embarrassment again. Wei Wuxian grins and bites his lip, a little frisson of pain sliding through him from the forgotten cut lip, which is now puffy and swollen. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just— you’re really cute. So fucking cute. You know that, right?” 

Lan Wangji blinks at him, still wide-eyed, as though unable to fully process what Wei Wuxian is saying. “So fuck me then,” he says finally, the gentle motion of his hand as he tucks a piece of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear at odds with his indelicate words. 

Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing, unable to believe how much he’s falling for this man already, and uncaps the little jar of Lan Wangji’s homemade lube (ridiculous, too cute for words). He’s ready, he wants to take Lan Wangji apart completely, wants to crack open the bitchy shell of his bravado and let loose the tender vulnerable hidden parts of him, the parts that blush and go soft for bunnies. He wants Lan Wangji desperate and calling his name before he’s done, and loving every second of it at the same time. 

Wei Wuxian returns eagerly to the task at hand, teasing lightly around Lan Wangji’s hole with slippery fingers, lapping at the tip of his wet cock with alacrity. He seals just the tip between his lips, sucking hard like he wants to drink down Lan Wangji’s essence, and feels a pleased flutter low in his belly when Lan Wangji lets out a breathy gasp halfway to a moan.

He swirls his tongue around and around, lavishing just the head of Lan Wangji’s cock with attention, and finally dips one finger gently into his hole, feeling the way Lan Wangji tenses around it, like he’s trying to hold on tight. 

Wei Wuxian takes the cue, sliding one finger deeper into Lan Wangji’s ass, licking further down his cock, running his lips along its length, coating it with his own spit. Lan Wangji makes a little “Nnnn” sound above him, gripping his hair tighter where his hand is tangled in Wei Wuxian’s ponytail.

“Yeah, Lan Zhan— pull my hair,” Wei Wuxian gasps, diving back down to suck Lan Wangji’s wet cock halfway into his mouth. Lan Wangji lets out a little stuttering groan, and Wei Wuxian rewards him by sliding a second finger into the slippery heat of his asshole. 

Lan Wangji lets out another little whimper, his thighs tensing where they’re wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s neck, and presses his hand against the back of Wei Wuxian’s head, cupping it in his palm, his fingers still caught and tugging at his hair. He has big hands, and Wei Wuxian likes the feel of that hand wrapped around the back of his head, pushing him slowly further down on his cock. 

Wei Wuxian swallows Lan Wangji’s cock down in increments, easing the full, hot length of it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around it and sucking hard as he goes. As he crooks his fingers inside of Lan Wangji in a beckoning motion, Lan Wangji lets out a cute little squeal of surprise and Wei Wuxian moans happily around his cock, the vibration of it hitting them both like a cat’s purr. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji gasps, and Wei Wuxian learns that Lan Wangji saying his name in that voice, so overwhelmed with pleasure that he can barely contain himself, is not something he can endure again if he wants to last long enough to fuck Lan Wangji properly.

With the idea that the best way to remedy this is to bring Lan Wangji to the same point, so that he’s as hungry to be fucked as Wei Wuxian is to fuck him, Wei Wuxian lets his jaw go slack, and takes Lan Wangji down in one quick sliding movement, feeling the head of Lan Wangji’s cock press against the soft back of his throat and then slowly, wetly slip even deeper. His mouth stretched full, his face buried in the warmth between Lan Wangji’s legs, nose filled with the salty-sweet scent of his body, the smell of him beneath the perfume that Wei Wuxian had so longed for earlier in the evening, Wei Wuxian moans again, his throat quivering, opening and closing, flexing around Lan Wangji’s cock.

“Ah, ah, Wei Ying— please—” Lan Wangji’s head is thrown back, one hand pulling so hard on Wei Wuxian’s hair that it stings, his other hand pressed to his own forehead like a princess about to faint. A dark coil of hair has slid across the base of his neck and is sticking to the fine sheen of sweat glimmering there. He’s so fucking beautiful.

Abruptly, Wei Wuxian pulls off of his cock, spit stringing between the tip and his mouth for a moment as he eases his fingers out of Lan Wangji’s ass, and then seizes his hips underneath his dress to swing Lan Wangji on top of him as he more or less falls to the floor. Thankfully, Lan Wangji is a little more graceful than him, and catches Wei Wuxian in his arms, landing easily in a deep squat above Wei Wuxian, his long skirt billowing out around them.

“Fuck. What the fuck. You’re so hot, Lan Zhan, come here—” Lan Wangji does him one better, hands already at Wei Wuxian’s waist, rapidly unbuckling his belt, yanking the trousers of his suit along with his briefs down to his thighs in one swift motion, not even bothering to pull them all the way off.

“Inside me. Now.” He grabs Wei Wuxian’s cock in one of his long graceful hands, and Wei Wuxian is caught between laughing breathlessly at how bitchy he can still manage to be mere moments before riding Wei Wuxian’s cock, and feeling more turned on than he’s ever been in his life. 

Somehow, Lan Wangji had the presence of mind to locate a condom on the way down (possibly from the same place he magically produced his homemade lube) and is already proceeding to roll it over Wei Wuxian’s cock. Wei Wuxian just watches as he wipes his hand delicately on a stray cloth draped over the workbench behind him before coming up onto his knees above Wei Wuxian’s lap, pinning him to the floor with that dark gaze. 

“Hold my dress,” he commands, and Wei Wuxian hastens to comply, holding the long skirt of his dress up with both hands like the curtain of a theater, as he enjoys a front row seat to the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen: Lan Wangji reaching back with both hands to spread his ass and sink slowly down onto Wei Wuxian’s cock as it stands at the ready.

“Oh, oh, fuck, Lan Zhan— ah—” He’s so unprepared for the beautiful sight of Lan Zhan above him, fully seated in his lap, legs folded in half and hugging his hips, garters stretched over his thighs, still wearing those fucking boots—

Wei Wuxian drops the skirt of Lan Wangji’s dress, sliding his hands up to Lan Wangji’s waist, letting the dress completely cover them both, he can’t watch or he’s going to come too fast—

Lan Wangji, head thrown back, breathing carefully, slowly looks him in the eyes, gives his long hair a little toss, and starts to move. 

“Nngh, ahh, Lan Zhan— you feel so good— oh my god.” Wei Wuxian is blissed out, shockwaves of expectant heat rolling through his cock and abdomen, his back arching off the floor slightly with each movement of Lan Wangji’s hips, the ocean of rippling blue silk that covers them both shifting gently up and down as Lan Wangji rides him like he was born for it. 

But Lan Wangji, as gorgeous as he is in this moment (and every other moment), is still far too composed. Wei Wuxian wants him completely wrecked, he wants—

Wei Wuxian sits up, forcing Lan Wangji to lean back with the change in angle, and cranes forward to bury his face in the hollow between Lan Wangji’s collarbones, licking the little drops of sweat, biting and sucking all the way up the tender skin of his neck, where the scent of his perfume is the strongest.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice shakes as he pulls Wei Wuxian’s hair all the way free of his ponytail, tangling his hands in the tumultuous waves, then burying his face in it. Wei Wuxian sighs and rocks upward into Lan Wangji, loving the hot pressure of him, the way he takes him so deep inside. He slides his hands down Lan Wangji’s back, over his waist on the outside of the dress, imagining how it must look underneath, Lan Wangji’s perfect ass splitting around his cock. 

Vaguely aware of something hot brushing the side of his face, Wei Wuxian realizes it’s the tender lobe of Lan Wangji’s red ear, and he turns obligingly to give it a delicate bite. 

Lan Wangji actually yelps, by far the loudest sound he’s made yet, and Wei Wuxian can feel him clenching and trembling around him in a way that draws an answering moan out of Wei Wuxian that quickly turns into breathless laughter.

“Lan Zhan, are you sensitive? You like it when I bite your ears? What if I—” Wei Wuxian releases a hot breath and gently sucks the lobe of Lan Wangji’s ear into his mouth.

Lan Wangji cries out and gives Wei Wuxian’s hair a sharp jerk, forcing his head back and sending a sparkling pain through his scalp that drives a high whine out of Wei Wuxian. “Yeah, yes, Lan Zhan, oh fuck—”

Lan Wangji responds by taking Wei Wuxian by the shoulders and pushing him back to the floor, holding him down and leaning over him as he grinds forward on top of Wei Wuxian. His eyebrows are pointing upwards in the middle, his lips parted, breath panting as he gazes down at Wei Wuxian with his burning dark eyes. Dazedly, Wei Wuxian realizes that those are tear drops gleaming in Lan Wangji’s eyelashes. He’s so close, but he wants Lan Wangji to come for him, he wants to see it—

Grabbing Lan Wangji by the waist, he tenses his core and fucks up into Lan Wangji with all he has, sliding one hand under the dress to where the silky fabric is tented over the shape of Lan Wangji’s cock, now hard and leaking in his hand. 

“Ah— Wei Ying—” Lan Wangji gives a shuddering breath, arching his back above Wei Wuxian, the valley between his pectoral muscles sparkling with sweat. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian strokes up and down on Lan Wangji’s cock, the soft fabric of the dress sliding over his arm, brushing against the tip of Lan Wangji’s cock and making him take little hitching breaths every time it touches him.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so perfect, will you come for me, Lan Zhan—” Lan Wangji tenses around Wei Wuxian and whimpers, sliding one hand up from where it’s braced on Wei Wuxian’s chest, back up into his hair. He can feel the trembling clench of Lan Wangji as he slides up and down his cock, can feel the way his hips stutter every time Wei Wuxian twists his hand on Lan Wangji’s hard length. 

“Lan Zhan, I can’t believe you— who knew you would be like this, who knew you could ride me so well, in your cute little bunny garters, fuck, fuck, Lan Zhan—”

Wei Wuxian can feel the tremors going through Lan Zhan’s body now, but he’s sensing it’s from something other than fatigue. Tentatively, he slides his hand from Lan Wangji’s waist up to the hand Lan Wangji has pressed against Wei Wuxian’s chest over his heart, and carefully weaves their fingers together, clasping Lan Wangji’s hand in his own. Holding him in place with a hand on his cock, cradling him with his hips, Wei Wuxian gently brings Lan Wangji’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. Lan Wangji makes a tiny squeak that would probably make Wei Wuxian laugh under different circumstances, but right now it just makes him unbearably tender.

“Lan Zhan. I can’t wait to do this with you again, I can’t wait to see what you look like with this dress off, but also I can’t wait to have a conversation with you that doesn’t end in fucking, I can’t wait to hear you talk about perfume, I bet you sound like a fucking genius, I can’t wait to wake up next to you, I want to see you first thing in the morning in matching bunny pajamas, I bet you have bunny pajamas, do you, Lan Zhan, oh, fuck—” 

At some point during his rambling, Lan Wangji slid his other hand out of Wei Wuxian’s hair and placed it alongside his face, running his thumb along the edge of Wei Wuxian’s mouth as he speaks. Lan Wangji’s face is doing something kind of intense, going taut in a way Wei Wuxian hasn’t seen before, his eyes too bright, and then—

“Wei Ying— ah— stop talking, are you— ahhh—” Lan Wangji throws his head back, his body curved in a graceful arch above Wei Wuxian as he clenches down hard on Wei Wuxian’s cock inside him, his own cock tensing and jumping in Wei Wuxian’s hand, his hips jerking erratically as he comes, all around and on top of Wei Wuxian, who is swathed in the salt-sweet-incense scent of him. Wei Wuxian is only vaguely aware that he himself is coming; the information is almost secondary, like Lan Wangji’s orgasm is something he’s just lucky to be part of. Of course he’s coming too, but that’s not the point. 

“Wow. Fuck. Lan Zhan, you’re so amazing, you— thank you, holy shit, I—” Lan Wangji interrupts him by actually placing a hand over his mouth, and then even more surprisingly, by leaning down to kiss him, slow and warm, the urgent intensity of earlier giving way to a deep and loving attention to detail. Time slips away, and as Wei Wuxian slides an arm around Lan Wangji’s waist, he’s vaguely aware that he’s kind of sweaty inside the layers of his suit, which is also probably pretty terribly wrinkled by now. 

In between kisses, he presents the problem: “Ah, Lan Zhan, I don’t know what your plans are— mm— for the rest of the party, but we’re a bit— ahh— oh shit, did we get cum on your dress? I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan—” 

Lan Wangji responds to this by placing a finger lightly over Wei Wuxian’s lips. “Don’t apologize. You’re right, we cannot go back to the party.” Lan Wangji then proceeds to lay down half on top of Wei Wuxian, face turned to his, one leg tucked between Wei Wuxian’s, as though the conversation is now settled. 

“Um. Ok, so. If we’re not going back to the party—”

“We will stay here.” Wei Wuxian can’t tell if Lan Wangji is fucking with him or not. He lets his head fall sideways to face him, both of them pillowed atop the waves of Wei Wuxian’s hair, to see that the impish little smirk from earlier has returned to Lan Wangji’s face. “My suite is next door. You may see my bunny pajamas, if you like.”

“Oh.” Comprehension dawns over Wei Wuxian like the most perfect sunrise. “Oh, yes please, please let me see the bunny pajamas, Lan Zhan—”

In a move that Wei Wuxian is already becoming accustomed to, Lan Wangji shuts him up by pulling him into another kiss. When they eventually make it off of the floor, Wei Wuxian discovers that the fastenings of Lan Wangji’s garters have left little bunny-shaped indents on Wei Wuxian’s hips, which he laughs about hysterically until Lan Wangji shuts him up again.