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“I have something for you,” Lan Wangji says one morning in the middle of his calligraphy. Wei Wuxian, who had just sat up from the bed, raises an eyebrow.

“A present?” he asks. The corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. After years of cataloguing his husband’s expressions, Wei Wuxian recognises this one as ‘barely contained excitement’, which still is rather ominous considering Lan Wangji was capable of getting excited over new forms of poetry.

“I am sure you will like it,” Lan Wangji says, almost as if he read Wei Wuxian’s mind. Wei Wuxian tucks his scepticism into a coughing fit, before sitting down across the table from his husband. Lan Wangji’s expression remains impassive, even as he takes the silk parcel from next to him, and hands it over with perfunctory politeness.

Wei Wuxian pulls back a corner of the parcel, sees black silk with scarlet embroidery, and grins. “Ah, Lan-er-gege, you truly have some unknown depths.”

“I expect to see you use it,” replies Lan Wangji simply. Wei Wuxian chuckles and winks at him.

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he replies. “You’ll only regret that you didn’t give it to me sooner.”


Wei Wuxian’s heard a lot about the men of the Lan clan over the years, but they were all invariably refined talk about how they’d move the heavens and earth for love, about how they were unerringly true to their love for the rest of their life. Even in romance, a Lan gentleman was terrifyingly pure and chivalrous.

Wei Wuxian is certain everyone’s just dancing around the fact that these terrifyingly pure and chivalrous Lan gentlemen were also complete and utter freaks in the sack, and that’s most likely due to the fact that precious few people in the world have ever found that out for themselves. And no one who’s had the good fortune to take a Lan to bed has bothered to kiss and tell just yet.

Well, he’s not about to break the tradition, even as tempting as it may be sometimes. The world doesn’t need to know just how much stamina his darling Lan Wangji has, but at the same time, if the world knew he was spending his days getting his brains fucked out by his husband, maybe then they’d stop blaming him for everything bad that has ever happened, ever.

After his bath, Wei Wuxian unwraps the parcel again, holding the outfit up to the light of the lamp. It’s a rifu, similar to the linen ones he wears regularly underneath his robes, but this one is embroidered with intricate pictures of marital bliss, and tied with ribbons of scarlet silk. Clearly Lan Wangji had meant for this to be worn specifically for bed.

Just feeling the luxurious smoothness under his fingertips sends shivers down his spine. In the distance, a gong marks the disciples’ oncoming bedtime, which means that Lan Wangji will be returning to his rooms soon. Wei Wuxian thus scrambles to tie the strings of his husband’s present together, making sure the silk covers the apex of his thighs before arraying himself out on their bed in anticipation of his husband’s arrival.

The night breeze blows in through the window, raising goosebumps along his shoulder, down his spine. Lan Wangji really better appreciate this, because he’s not freezing for anything less.

Sure enough, within minutes the soft footsteps of his husband echo through the rooms, followed by the man himself as he steps through the doorway —

— and promptly freezes at the sight before him, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Wei Wuxian smiles to himself; that look is clearly ‘brain has stopped working’, and whenever Lan Wangji’s brain stops working like that, delightful things are sure to follow.

Sure enough, his husband crosses the room so fast Wei Wuxian could’ve sworn he’d ridden Bichen over. He clambers onto the bed, all semblance of grace thrown out the window, and captures Wei Wuxian’s lips with an almost feral hunger. Wei Wuxian opens up to it, pliant and wanting beneath his husband’s touch. That, in turn, drives Lan Wangji even more wild.

“I’m guessing you like it, then,” Wei Wuxian teases when they pull away. Lan Wangji’s lips are bruised, his eyes wide. Without a word, his hands skim Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, down to his forearms, to his wrists.

“Unbelievably so,” he murmurs, taking Wei Wuxian’s fingers and pressing kisses to the tips, to the knuckles. “The things I wish to do to you are… unspeakable.”

“Scandalous,” replies Wei Wuxian, careful to move so that he’s still mostly covered by the rifu. “But if you can’t speak it, you should show it.”

Lan Wangji quirks an eyebrow in a ‘don’t be daft’ sort of way. “I fully intend to,” he replies, and with one final kiss to the inside of Wei Wuxian’s wrist, he takes them and pins them above his head.

Wei Wuxian wriggles a little at that, his eyes widening as Lan Wangji takes off his headband and begins to wrap his wrists together. It’s not the first time this has happened to him, not by far — but every time feels like the first time in terms of seeing just how intense his husband can get. It’s a bit terrifying, but Wei Wuxian would not be the Yiling Patriarch if he didn’t enjoy the terrifying.

With a final tug, Lan Wangji finishes tying him to the bed. Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, he rises and starts to disrobe, methodically folding away his clothes as if completely oblivious to the plight of his poor husband wound up on the bed beside him. “Really, Lan Wangji?” Wei Wuxian calls as his husband slowly undoes his sash, setting Bichen down on its stand. “You tied me up so that I couldn’t help you undress?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes sparkle at that. “Good things come to those who wait,” he replies.

“Is that meant for you or me?” demands Wei Wuxian, but he’s grinning nonetheless, especially as Lan Wangji finally removes his last layers and clambers back onto the bed, hungry gaze travelling down Wei Wuxian’s scantily-clad body. He, too, can’t help but appreciate the lamplight shining over Lan Wangji’s pale skin, accentuating his well-toned muscles and the discipline whip scars streaked across his shoulders and back.

Scars that prove that Lan Wangji’s devotion to him runs more than skin-deep. Wei Wuxian’s heart stutters just remembering that.

“Come here, darling,” he pleads, arching his body, spreading his legs. The rifu ghosts along his thighs, except where his hardness is already tenting the embroidered silk, pre-come wetting the fabric. Lan Wangji happily settles between his thighs, pressing kisses along his jaw as his fingers inch along the rifu’s hem, skimming just under the scarlet ribbons to tease against his waist.

Impatiently, Wei Wuxian bucks into his husband’s touch, letting the rifu flutter as he grinds himself against Lan Wangji’s half-hard cock. Lan Wangji’s fingers dig into his waist at that; a soft reprimand for his impatience that only leaves Wei Wuxian wanting more.

“Patience,” his husband teases. Wei Wuxian pouts.

“You know I can’t do that,” he points out, gasping as his husband darts a hand under the rifu to tweak his nipple. “Er-gege, you pervert!”

“There are worse things I could do,” replies Lan Wangji innocently, even as the head of his cock bumps against Wei Wuxian’s hole.

“Oh there are, are there?” Wei Wuxian’s toes curl in anticipation. He bucks upwards again, in an attempt to feel his husband’s cock once more, but this time Lan Wangji presses him back into place with two hands on his hips, and a kiss determined to steal the remaining air from his lungs.

Wei Wuxian melts into the kiss, as always. Lan Wangji reaches for the nightstand and retrieves a bottle of oil, and Wei Wuxian melts even further under his husband’s touch as Lan Wangji works a finger into him, slow and loving. It’s both too much and not enough at the same time — salvation and torture in equal measure. Even as his husband takes him apart, Wei Wuxian is desperately aware of the state of his cock as it rubs against the silk with each rub of Lan Wangji’s fingers inside him.

“Who would’ve known the great Hanguang-Jun would have a thing for flowery underwear?” he teases, wrapping his legs tighter around Lan Wangji’s hips. “If I’d known this earlier, I’d have gotten much nicer underthings the last time we went to Caiyi Town — you know, there was this delightful little shop with all those wonderful books, and they had rifu just like this, but in blue and white — would you have liked that?”

Lan Wangji considers it for a moment, a flush of flustered pink creeping up his neck like a lotus bloom. “Mm,” he says, brushing his lips over Wei Wuxian’s ears. “I would.”

“I knew you would like to see me in Gusu Lan colours,” teases Wei Wuxian. “How perverted of Lan-er-gege, thinking about his clan’s regalia being incorporated into underwear. What else will you surprise me with?”

His husband’s topaz eyes twinkle. “This,” he says, and Wei Wuxian gasps as the head of Lan Wangji’s cock enters him, stretching him even further.

The most terrifying thing about Lan Wangji was just how closely he stuck to his promises. Every word was a bond into which he tied his reputation, his face, but Wei Wuxian had never thought that he would also take his promise to bed his beloved every night to heart as well. Not that he’s complaining, of course — he’d never enjoyed an active sex life before despite having the reputation as an incorrigible flirt, and getting to enjoy it with Lan Wangji of all people is a privilege and an honour that he’s still trying to wrap his head around.

The fact that Lan Wangji is exceedingly talented in such matters, as he seems to be at all other things in life, is just the sweetest bonus. As his husband starts to thrust, Wei Wuxian moves his hips to meet him, his cock still rubbing teasingly against the silk of the rifu. But Lan Wangji still does not touch it; instead, his hands grip Wei Wuxian’s ass, squeezing so tight that Wei Wuxian is certain he’ll be seeing handprints on his ass in the morning. The thought makes his heart thrill as he strains back upwards to capture Lan Wangji’s lips in another kiss.

“Would you want me to wear this every day?” he breathes, when they break apart. “It’ll be under all of my clothes, a little secret just for you. And every time I feel the silk against my skin, I’ll think about all the naughty things you’d do to me in this. It’ll be too much for me to bear, and you’ll have to help me out —” He leans up, pressing a kiss to Lan Wangji’s cheek, “and that’ll only make it worse, so we’ll never get anything done ever again.”

“Ridiculous,” says Lan Wangji, but his cheeks are pinker than before and his eyes burn with an excitement that drives Wei Wuxian’s heart wild with need. “Promiscuity is forbidden.”

“We’re married, it wouldn’t count,” retorts Wei Wuxian.

“It would be indecency even though we are married.”

“Oh, come off it.” Wei Wuxian pecks the tip of his nose. “We both know you’re just dying to take me in the Library Pavillion one of these days. It’s one of your dirtiest fantasies, remember?”

The pink flushes red, and a sudden bolt of pain flashes through him as Lan Wangji’s thrusts turn unexpectedly rough. He can’t help but laugh at how easily he could affect his husband like this, but the laughter soon turns to moans as Lan Wangji’s cock brushes against that sweet spot inside him over and over and over.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, have mercy,” he pleads, even as the pleasure makes it increasingly difficult to string his thoughts together. “Please touch me, I’m getting your present all dirty rubbing it like this. Or untie my hands, so I could do it myself —”

“No,” murmurs Lan Wangji, as he peppers kisses along Wei Wuxian’s collar, down to the silk hems of the rifu fluttering with their exertions. His hands move up, caressing the curve of Wei Wuxian’s spine, the planes of his shoulders. If they trip and loosen the ribbons at his back, well, Wei Wuxian isn’t complaining.

“So cruel,” he whines instead. “Just taking the satisfaction for yourself, eh?”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrow twitches; without warning, Wei Wuxian finds himself being pressed down harder onto the bed, as Lan Wangji hooks his legs over his shoulders to change the angle of his thrusts once more. The rifu slips to the side, now secured only around Wei Wuxian’s neck, leaving his cock jutting upwards, still leaking precome at the tip.

“I want to see you,” his husband grinds out, punctuating each word with another rough thrust, “satisfied with me alone…”

Wei Wuxian can’t help his gasp, as the final thrust causes the pleasure mounting inside him to hit its peak. He feels himself spilling, messing up the rifu further with streaks of white. With a barely audible grunt, Lan Wangji releases too, filling Wei Wuxian with his warmth.

He must look a mess, Wei Wuxian knows, even as his husband slowly leans down around his neck and tugs away the remaining straps of the rifu with his teeth, gently setting it aside to bare him to the lamplit bedroom. He tries to remain still, clenching himself in an attempt to keep his husband’s come from spilling out too much, but it seems futile. Lan Wangji cleans them both, before reaching up and untying him from the bed at last.

Wei Wuxian immediately thrusts his wrists towards him with a pout, presenting the marks where the headband had dug into his skin. Lan Wangji’s eyes sparkle mischievously at that; with the faintest hint of a smile, he presses soft, penitent kisses along each mark, before swooping up to capture his lips again.

“What if I just spent the rest of my days wearing nothing but this rifu?” teases Wei Wuxian as he enfolds his husband in his arms, settling them back onto the bed once more. “I’ll just never leave the room, and you’ll come back every night to me lying on your bed ready for you.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth twitches, as if he had an instinctive response that he’s trying to repress. After a moment, he manages, “you’d get bored,” with undisguised fondness in his voice.

“Would not,” says Wei Wuxian. “I’d make sure to wear a different one each day.”

Lan Wangji chuckles at that. “I look forward to seeing that,” he replies, before pressing a kiss to Wei Wuxian’s earlobe and closing his eyes.

For a long while after, Wei Wuxian lies there and watches his husband sleep, watches the rhythmic rise and fall of Lan Wangji’s chest illuminated by the low-burning lamp and the silvery moonlight filtering in through the window. His husband seems even younger, more vulnerable in sleep; all of the emotions he locks away during the day seem to come out in full force in his dreams, playing across his face in entertaining ways.

Wei Wuxian knows he doesn’t deserve this, or him. He’s still completely blown away by the fact that it has been given to him anyway.

With one final kiss to Lan Wangji’s forehead, Wei Wuxian tucks himself closer into his husband’s arms, and dreams of eternity.