The sky over Lotus Pier is darkened with clouds and Lan Xichen frowns at the sight.
It's been a long three days of a discussion conference he came to attend in Yunmeng, and the least he had hoped was to enjoy the famous riverside sights in the evenings; instead, the sky was hung low and heavy with rain and thunderstorm.
Xichen lets out a resigned sigh and heads back inside, to the maze of pavilions connected by rooftop-clad walkways. There's an uneasiness, a boredom that itches below his skin; a trait absolutely not befitting a Lan - much less a Lan clan leader - but as much as he tries to quench it away, at this point, Xichen almost feels it's pointless. He's always liked being busy , and even more so now - freshly out of seclusion, when the guilt and the hurt over that person and his wrongdoings (which were, in Xichen's eyes, as well his own) was still gnawing away at his heart - so that the quiet walkways and hushed voices of Yunmeng remind him even more painfully that he was just a guest; that he had to wait to be entertained instead of doing what he pleased.
Yunmeng, however, never bothered to entertain its guests; in their Clan Leader's eyes, the conferences were strictly business, over as soon as the discussions finished and with no room for unnecessary pleasantries.
Xichen knows this firsthand; Jiang Wanyin has visited him several times during his seclusion, never staying for more than a few hours, either during the day or, sometimes, at night. At first, he had imagined Young Master Wei was sending his brother to check on him when neither him nor A-Zhan could, but Sect Leader Jiang quickly dispelled this idea himself, stating outwards (in harsh words and a rather prominent shade of lovely red staining the tops of his sharp cheekbones) his own interest in making sure Lan Xichen does not wilt away in his seclusion completely.
Their interactions turned into easy companionship since then, with an undercurrent of something that left a pleasant warmth in Xichen's chest every time he heard the now-familiar jingling of bells and a particular kind od electricity that seemed to fill the air between them more and more with every meeting.
He's used to having Wanyin for himself, Xichen realizes with a sudden pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. Here, in the Lotus Pier, he is only a guest among many; Wanyin hasn't paid him more attention than a passing greeting so far, and Xichen suddenly knows the reason for the uneasiness bothering him for the past few days.
It's ridiculous, he chastises himself; feelings of greed are impure and therefore forbidden, the Cloud Recesses rules say, and what Clan Leader is he not to set the example--
-- but this is Lotus Pier, not the Recesses, and Lan Xichen allows himself to be more human now; attempting perfection has only led him so far, he thinks grimly.
A familiar ringing snaps him out of his thoughts and he looks up to see Sect Leader Jiang standing right next to him, his sharp features illuminated by the lantern he holds in one of his hands, a strong contrast to the deep purple of his robes and the dark, heavy sky in the background.
"So that's where you've been," Jiang Wanyin says, his gaze sliding over Xichen's form with an expression that's hard to read in the low light of the lantern. There's something in the tone of his voice, too; something Xichen can't really put a finger on just yet. "I couldn't get to you sooner because of all the--" Wanyin waves a hand and growls with annoyance as he tries to explain, but Xichen just shakes his head.
"It is alright, Sect Leader Jiang," he replies in a polite tone; this, somehow, seems to aggravate Wanyin even more. He doesn't seem particularly angry , though; tense is more of the word, as Xichen can read from the rigid set of his shoulders and the surprisingly careful way he seems to be choosing his words.
As Wanyin takes a step closer, Xichen can see those dark grey eyes swirling with an emotion that he was sure he'd only had imagined on him before; now he sees it in full force, laced with an intent so clear it steals Xichen's breath away.
All the months of careful dancing around each other with words unspoken and gestures too fleeting to be definite fall in crumbles at their feet now and he almost wants to laugh at how he couldn't figure it out sooner.
He could've had that a long time ago already , Xichen thinks as he stares back into those dark, dark eyes.
"Follow me," Wanyin says finally, his voice rough and low as he turns around, the commanding tone leaving no place for negotiation.
As if any was necessary, Xichen sighs to himself, dazed; he's more than ready, more than willing for anything Jiang Wanyin has just offered him.
He follows Jiang Wanyin hastily, the electric undercurrent in the air buzzing with an unspoken kind of energy between them. Xichen feels his breath catch once the sliding door closes and Wanyin turns to face him, eyes dark and expression unreadable. In another time, he wouldn't think of Sect Leader Jiang half of the things that are reeling around his mind right now, leaving him breathless and wanting.
It takes a split second before his back hits one of the wooden pillars and he can only gasp in surprise when he feels Wanyin's lips on his, biting, bruising; Xichen's fingers tangle into purple robes as he gasps into the kiss, desperate to pull the man closer.
This has to be one of the best ideas any of them had, he thinks fleetingly, as Wanyin's hands slide down to his hips and his kisses grow even more insistent, pinning Xichen firmly into place.
This is a man who wears his anger and his pride for the world to see, but Wanyin's attention is focused fully on him now and the weight of his gaze - heavy with something that Xichen doesn't even dare to decipher - is almost unbearable. He's always known Sandu Shengshou to be an intense person and admired him for it - but having all this intensity, this laser focus so close, all to himself, is intoxicating. Xichen feels his hands move of their own accord, untying layers upon layers of heavy cloth to slide underneath, against the strong planes of the man's body.
They're almost of a height, but the way Jiang Wanyin crowds him against the wall makes Lan Xichen feel smaller, almost delicate - and he's surprised to find that the thought pulls out a hungry sound from his throat. He doesn't mind submitting to Wanyin; quite the opposite, but he'd never realized before how much he wants, he needs to let go, to let someone else take control.
"Strip," Jiang Wanyin almost snarls against the skin on his neck, his voice low and rough. "I don't want those prim and proper Lan robes of yours getting in the way."
Xichen chuckles at that, breathless and dazed; he lets Wanyin take a step back, even if the distance makes him physically ache, and removes his clothes with hands trembling more than he cares to notice. Shame is nothing to him; despite the hundreds of rules of his clan, he was never opposed to the concept of the pleasures of the body - he followed Sect Leader Jiang with a very clear intention in mind, after all - but Wanyin's intense gaze on him makes something in Xichen's gut tighten.
He realizes he really likes the way Wanyin watches him, the way his eyes slide down along with the layers of Xichen's robes, hungry and wanting.
Before he even suggests for Wanyin to undress as well, strong fingers are pressing into his hips again and Xichen tilts his head, pulling the other man in for another kiss, slotting Wanyin flush against himself.
There's a crackling of electricity against his skin and he gasps at that: the cold metal of Zidian on his master's finger thrums with energy, sending sparks along with Wanyin's palms raking over the planes of his body. Xichen's head falls back with a moan on a particularly strong crackle, Wanyin's fingers pressing in the dip between his hip and thigh.
"I didn't know you could do that," he breathes, dazed, his gaze rising to meet Wanyin's, half-lidded and equally hungry.
"I could do more," Wanyin replies, the tightness of his voice the only thing breaking his apparent composure. "Had I known it excites you so, Lan Xichen."
The weight of possibility in his words shoots a new flare of desire down Xichen's spine: in a fraction of a second he imagines Zidian coiling around his own wrists, holding him firmly in place as Jiang Wanyin has his way with him, relentless and unyielding; he imagines the lightning white sparks sliding down his entire body, leaving him panting and breathless and--
He's been hard for some time now, but his cock twitches with interest against Wanyin's thigh at this little fantasy, betraying him mercilessly as Xichen's hips stutter in search for more.
"Fuck," Wanyin rasps into his ear, pressing against him more insistently, his still-clothed hips grinding down Xichen's, sending a flurry of delicious friction against his straining cock. "You're really into this, aren't you."
I am , Xichen thinks, dazed, as he fumbles with the ties of Wanyin's robes, desperate to get his hands on the other sect leader as soon as possible. Gods forgive me for how much I am.
There's an impatient huff above him and he finally manages to force himself into focus enough to actually undress Wanyin; he allows himself a moment to admire the warrior's body, littered with scars over lean muscle.
You're beautiful, Jiang Wanyin , he thinks; it's only after a surprised gasp and the sight of Wanyin's cheeks coloring that Xichen realizes he let it slip out loud. Well, he thinks with an easy smile; it is all truth, and if Wanyin doesn't know of his own allure yet, Xichen would be more than happy to compliment him more often.
The loud rumble of a thunder outside the pavillion snaps him back into reality; Wanyin's palms slide excruciatingly slowly down his thighs, blunt fingernails leaving reddened trails on jade-white skin as he turns Xichen around, face to the wall.
Xichen moans at the loss, the disappointment of not being able to see Wanyin anymore mixing with a thrill caused by the other man's lean body pressing him chest first against the wall; he can clearly feel Wanyin now, hard and hot and rutting against him, and it makes his head spin and his mouth water.
He grinds back against the length of Wanyin's cock, delighting in the way his body tenses and his breath stops; he keeps the movements slow but insistent until one of Wanyin's hands slides up his chest, sending sparks of delicious electricity against his hardened nipple all the way up to his neck.
"I don't do well with tease, Zewu-jun," Wanyin warns, his voice dangerously low as his lips brush against Xichen's ear, making him tremble so hard his knees threaten to buckle. His other palm slots against Xichen's hipbone again, running circles excruciatingly close to his straining cock, close enough to tease but still too damn far .
"Well, I don't--" he tries, but Wanyin's fingers pinch his nipple and twist and all that comes out of his mouth is a needy moan, his entire body arching, trapped between Wanyin's strong grip and the wooden wall. "I don't do well with impatience," he manages to rasp in a voice that's low and needy, changed to the point Xichen barely recognizes it as his own.
There's a hum of acknowledgement from the man above him as he fumbles for something in a pouch strapped to his robes; Xichen looks down for long enough to notice a small but surprisingly ornate bottle with what he assumes must be oil. So it seems the intention was there from the start, he thinks with a small smile and enough clarity of his mind that the current situation lets him.
That smile, however, quickly breaks on a soft moan as Wanyin traces a slick finger behind him and presses insistently, making Xichen buck up against it.
"You'll have to deal with impatience, Sect Leader Lan, for I don't have time to waste," Wanyin smirks against the nape of his neck, and that's all it takes for Xichen to turn his upper body around enough to tangle his fingers into the dark locks of Wanyin's now-disheveled hair and kiss him breathless, hard and insistent as he bucks down harder on the finger sliding into him.
He might be willing to submit to Jiang Wanyin, but he's not going to stand and wait , either.
The other man chuckles into that kiss, lets it last for a few moments before he presses Xichen against the wall again, adding another oiled finger as his other hand comes down his chest and stomach, blunt fingernails razing heated, sensitive skin. It leaves a delicious burn and Xichen can only hope there will be marks after, to remember this night by.
A lightning hits again, outside, illuminating the room in a flash of white for a split second; Jiang Wanyin's hand wraps against Xichen's cock and the sound that it pulls from his throat is absolutely wrecked.
All pride gone, he's nearly begging now, held trembling between the wooden wall and Wanyin's strong, nimble hands leaving him breathless. The rumbling of a thunder rolls so close the pavillion seems to shake, the reverberations of it echoing through his senses - or is it only the rushed heartbeat of Jiang Wanyin, no, Jiang Cheng pressed full-body against him - and then the fingers preparing him pull away, leaving Lan Xichen moaning at the loss.
He can hear the oil bottle clattering to the floor as Jiang Cheng moves slightly behind him and burning-hot hands press fingers into the hollows of his hips; when the man slides into him slowly, Lan Xichen forgets to breathe.
He doesn't last long after that; the entire world becomes a blur of hazy, trembling pleasure, his own hips snapping to meet Jiang Cheng's pace ( slow, too slow, not enough) as the man's palm wraps around his length again, cold steel of Zidian sending the slightest of sparks against sensitive skin.
Xichen's head falls back, his voice all but lost, eyes fluttering closed as he pants into the other's neck, hands scrambling blindly behind him, tangling into Jiang Cheng's hair and pulling until he hears a hiss.
Jiang Cheng lets out a hungry sound, perfectly angled hips snapping against him once - twice -
--and Xichen comes undone, his whole being aflame with the force of lightning and thunder enveloping him as he shakes and trembles in Jiang Cheng's grasp, riding out the waves of subduing pleasure as he feels the other man follow not long after, collapsing against his back with a low moan.
His breath comes back to him in slow inhales as Jiang Cheng carefully slides out and detaches himself enough to reach for a warm towel, his touch surprisingly delicate now as he wipes them both clean, careful not to catch Xichen's eyes when he turns around and oh, is that a slight redness still clinging to his cheeks?
Xichen chuckles, soft and content, lifting a hand to press against Jiang Cheng's cheek, catching the last wisps of dark desire in his eyes before they fade completely, replaced by his usual anger and pride.
"I shall hope you keep to your promise, Sect Leader Jiang," he murmurs against soft lips, his fingers tangling with Jiang Cheng's enough to graze the cold metal on his right hand, intent perfectly clear.
If Jiang Cheng's eyes widen at that and his breath stutters for a split second, Xichen is only more than content to wait for another stormy night to come.