‘Hey Chengcheng, I bet you could do this one,’ Wei Wuxian says, tapping on the open page of the yellow book. The illustration depicts a woman on her back, ankles near her ears, a dissonantly serene expression on her face while she’s bent nearly in half.
Jiang Cheng squawks in outrage, shoving hard at his martial brother where he sits beside him. Wei Wuxian erupts into laughter even as he attempts to fend off Jiang Cheng’s punches. The entire display shocks Huaisang into giggles of his own, although he is quick to save the open yellow book between them from being crumpled by flailing limbs.
‘Hey hey, watch the pages!’
‘I just—ow! I just meant that you are very flexible, Chengcheng—!’
‘Shut! Up! Stop talking!’
‘Oh? Jiang Cheng, are you really that flexible?’ Now that the book of—ahem, literature—has been safely moved from harm, Huaisang brings his attention back to the comment that had started this all. The brief scuffle seemingly having come to an end, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both look toward him, faces now flushed with exertion in addition to the wine that Wei Wuxian smuggled in.
Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at Huaisang, but the look is almost too half-hearted to even be considered a glare. ‘I’m not doing that! But. I mean, I’m flexible, but it’s not hard to be if you practice—’
‘Shidi, you’re too humble! I mean, I can’t do some of the bendy things you do—’
‘Remember what I said about practice?!’ Jiang Cheng spits, raising another fist toward Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t get any farther than that, however, being interrupted by Huaisang leaning forward.
‘Oh, could you show me an example? Pretty please?’ Huaisang asks. He puts on what he thinks of his most innocently-hopeful expression—because he is interested in only the most innocent of ways! Unathletic as he is, Huaisang could hardly touch his toes; in a way similar to the aesthetic appreciation he found in yellow book illustrations, however, Huaisang was fascinated by displays of flexibility in other people.
In a moment Wei Wuxian is sitting up straight again. ‘Yes, Chengcheng! Pretty please?’ Wei Wuxian goes as far as to clasp his hands before him in a pleading gesture, which in Huaisang’s opinion comes across as too distinctly teasing. Huaisang’s request was genuine!
Jiang Cheng presses his lips together and turns his face away. Several seconds pass without a word from him, at which point Huaisang fears it isn’t meant to be. That is, until Jiang Cheng huffs a ‘Fine,’ scooting back a ways from the low table. With his legs stretched straight out in front of him, in one fluid motion Jiang Cheng leans forward to press his torso almost entirely flush to his legs, forehead to his knees and hands comfortably reaching up to wrap around his heels.
Huaisang—who again, cannot even touch his own toes!—gasps in delight, clapping his hands together. ‘Oh, wonderful! That’s really amazing, Jiang Cheng!’
‘Aw, kind of boring though, shidi. I thought you might do the splits or something…’
Still in the stretch, Jiang Cheng turns his head toward Wei Wuxian, cheek now pressed to his knees. His glare is partially blocked by his arm, which he moves so that his eyes may better throw daggers toward his shixiong. ‘I am not about to do the splits in front of you! You make it weird!’
‘Huh?! What do you mean I make it weird?’
‘You know how you make it weird! Don’t play dumb!!’
‘I don’t know why you get so embarrassed, Jiang Cheng,’ Wei Wuxian says, shuffling closer to him on his knees. ‘And anyway, this pose isn’t even all that different— Like, if you just—’
Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen as Wei Wuxian reaches for him. He’s risen halfway out of his stretch before Wei Wuxian’s hands are on him, manhandling him onto his back and pressing back on his legs until—oh, Jiang Cheng’s ankles really can reach his ears!
‘What the hell, Wei Wuxian!’ Jiang Cheng seethes, swatting repeatedly at Wei Wuxian’s side from where he’s pressing down on him, unable to do much else from the position that he’s in. Though Jiang Cheng’s face is even more prettily flushed in embarrassment, he seems almost—comfortable, in this bent position? Or at least not visibly strained, Huaisang is amazed to see. Feeling himself becoming a little more flushed as well, Huaisang retrieves his fan to begin fanning at himself, avidly taking in the scene in front of him.
Wei Wuxian only grins down at his shidi, giggling at his flustered face. Huaisang’s heart skips a little when Wei Wuxian leans down to peck Jiang Cheng on the lips—oh???—Jiang Cheng continuing to glare up at him but with a fire that was rapidly fading, flopping his hands down on either side of his head in defeat.
‘I told you you could do it, Chengcheng~,’ Wei Wuxian sing-songs. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but otherwise just huffs in response.
‘Hey Huaisang,’ Wei Wuxian says, and Huaisang is so distracted he nearly jumps at being addressed. ‘Does this look like the picture? Pretty close right?’
Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart toward Huaisang with some alarm, as if he had forgotten he was still there, before darting away again to stare determinedly at the ceiling. Huaisang attempts to turn his cough into a thoughtful hum.
‘W—well, let’s see,’ Huaisang says, pulling the yellow book closer to him once more. He studies the image, looks up at the pose recreated in front of him, and then repeats the process twice more. Smiling mischievously, Huaisang flips the book and pushes it toward the two to look at themselves. ‘Pretty close, I’d say!’
The matter of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng being clothed and, his own delicate beauty aside, Jiang Cheng not being a beatifically-ravished maiden, prevent the scene from being entirely accurate to the book—but Jiang Cheng’s marvelous flexibility was certainly spot-on, in Huaisang’s opinion.
Wei Wuxian’s thoughts seemed to be along the same lines, as he turns his head with a moue of contemplation over the illustration. Jiang Cheng continues to stare determinedly at the ceiling beams—perhaps there was a spider up there? Huaisang hoped not. Although, these weren’t the rooms where he was sleeping anyway—
‘I think we can get a little closer,’ Wei Wuxian hums. Huaisang barely croaks out a questioning ’Hmm??’ before Wei Wuxian is reaching up to free the hairpiece from Jiang Cheng’s hair.
Jiang Cheng snaps to attention once more and makes to swat his hands away, but Wei Wuxian easily catches him by the wrist and presses it nicely back against the floor. ‘Her hair is down; it’s more accurate this way. Relax, I’m not about to tug any of your hair out.’
‘You better not,’ Jiang Cheng mumbles, and promptly gives up. Wei Wuxian smiles and pecks him once more on the lips, then finishes freeing the hairpiece, setting it aside before running his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair. Wei Wuxian checks the illustration again to make sure Jiang Cheng’s hair is fanned out as he likes, then begins tugging at Jiang Cheng’s clothes.
The woman in the illustration is not entirely nude, robes pushed back to exquisitely present her breasts, and rucked up to leave her lower half bare. Wei Wuxian eases off of Jiang Cheng’s legs long enough to pull open Jiang Cheng’s own robes, baring smooth skin and a freckled chest. Belatedly—very belatedly, to be honest—it isn’t until Wei Wuxian leans down to tongue at a nipple, Jiang Cheng gasping beneath him, that something about the two truly slots together in Huaisang’s mind.
Ooooh, Huaisang thinks, Oh, they’re not just fucking with each other. Or, well, in a manner of speaking—
Off come Jiang Cheng’s socks. When Wei Wuxian grabs for the waist of Jiang Cheng’s pants, however, Jiang Cheng stutters out what may have been a wordless protest, reaching out to stall his shixiong’s hands once more. Wei Wuxian merely looks down wordlessly at his shidi, rubbing small circles through the fabric covering Jiang Cheng’s hips. Eventually, Jiang’s Cheng’s grip weakens, after which Wei Wuxian tugs the undergarment off entirely.
In the position that he is in, the delicate furl of Jiang Cheng’s hole and his flushed, half-hard cock are plainly on display. Huaisang could genuinely say that Jiang Cheng as he is now appears more beautifully obscene than nearly all of the cutsleeve books that he owns, no question—except that he finds it rather difficult to say much of anything at the moment. Huaisang’s fanning motions have entirely been forgotten in favor of merely hiding his face aside from his eyes.
Jiang Cheng’s chest rises and falls quickly as he pants, lips parted and watery gaze trained on Wei Wuxian above him. To Huaisang’s eyes, Jiang Cheng appears as if he is vibrating. Wei Wuxian smiles down sweetly at his shidi, softly caressing along his thighs and the soft curve of his ass. He presses a slow kiss just above his knee, not taking his eyes off of Jiang Cheng’s face.
Eventually Wei Wuxian drags his eyes away, leaning back over the yellow book with a studious expression Huaisang has not once actually seen on his face in the classroom. Scanning over the brushstrokes on the page, he then goes ‘Oh! Of course,’, before retrieving a vial of oil from his sleeve.
Huaisang’s eyes widen further as Wei Wuxian pours the oil over his fingers, reaching down to finger at Jiang Cheng’s entrance. Jiang Cheng’s breath stutters and eyes flutter shut as he enters him, thigh muscles quivering.
When Wei Wuxian removes his fingers and raises his own robes to pull out his cock, Huaisang squirms in his seat, eyes darting for a moment toward the exit. The further this goes, the more Huaisang feels as if the two have forgotten that he’s here, and that he maybe, probably, should not be here… but he draws his eyes back to the two in front of him, finding himself unwilling to move.
Wei Wuxian rubs more oil over his length, and Jiang Cheng flinches slightly as he rubs the head against his entrance. With one hand Wei Wuxian rubs a soothing hand along the length of Jiang Cheng’s thigh, the other slowly guiding his length inside of him.
When the head of his shixiong’s cock first breaches Jiang Cheng, a choked consonant gets caught in his throat. Once Wei Wuxian is fully sheathed inside, the barest hint of Jiang Cheng’s voice is heard in the long, stuttering exhale he lets out, as if he had been holding his breath. Huaisang lets out a sigh of his own. Jiang Cheng has been remarkably quiet so far, but the sounds Huaisang is able to hear are lovely.
Wei Wuxian lets out a low groan, grinding his hips slowly into Jiang Cheng to hear his breath catch, but for the moment doing nothing more than that. He hums and rubs his cheek against Jiang Cheng’s leg like a cat. Huffing out a laugh, Wei Wuxian turns once more toward Huaisang. ‘How about now?’
Head still buzzing, Huaisang blinks owlishly back at him. Wei Wuxian’s smile turns crooked. ‘Huaisang? The picture?’
‘Oh!’ Huaisang finally responds. ‘Oh. Yes. Um.’ He fumbles near-blindly for the yellow book, one hand keeping the fan securely in front of his face. Once his fingers find the book, Huaisang flips it back around to face him, bending down to study it once more. Looking back up at the two entwined in front of him, he attempts to clear his throat.
‘Wei Wuxian, move your hand further up his hip,’ Huaisang directs, voice perfectly level thank-you-very-much. ‘No, the other—yes, right there. Perfect.’ Wei Wuxian grins, squeezing at the flesh under his palm.
‘Jiang Cheng—Um. Your arms are in the perfect position, actually. Turn your head towards me a bit?’
At first Huaisang thinks Jiang Cheng may be too… preoccupied to respond, but eventually he visibly swallows, before halting tilting his head toward Huaisang by small degrees.
Once Jiang Cheng’s head is in the right position, Huaisang let out a quiet ‘There’. Jiang Cheng stops, wetting his lips. His glassy eyes seem to struggle to focus on Huaisang, and the extremely flushed, overwhelmed look on his face is far from ‘serene’, but—
Huaisang is grateful that he is still hidden behind his fan, a reason least of which being he’s pretty sure he’s just bitten clean through his lip. Hurriedly licking away the blood that wells up, his voice comes out a bit strained when he repeats, ‘Yes, perfect.’
Wei Wuxian beams down at Jiang Cheng. ‘You hear that, shidi? Perfect perfect perfect,’ he teases, planting a series of loud, sloppy kisses along what parts of Jiang Cheng’s leg that his mouth can reach. That startles a nervy laugh out of Jiang Cheng, which abruptly cuts off into a moan as Wei Wuxian begins fucking into him.
As he watches, Huaisang doesn’t notice the way he’s crumpled the yellow book pages before him in his clawed hand.
Later, when Wei Wuxian has half-carried a frazzled and assumedly very sore Jiang Cheng into bed, and Huaisang is attempting to slink back to his own rooms unnoticed, he’s stopped by Wei Wuxian calling out his name in the worst stage whisper.
‘Huaisang! You’re an artist, right?’ Huaisang turns around warily, eyeing Wei Wuxian where he sits at the edge of the bed, Jiang Cheng laying behind him with his back turned to them both. Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows at him. ‘Have you maaaybe thought of putting together a collection of your own work?’
Huaisang blinks at him repeatedly. ‘I might have,’ he finally says, before swiftly making his exit.