“I don’t know how the Gusu Lan sect puts up with you,” Jiang Cheng mutters before downing another cup of wine.
“Hey!” Wei Wuxian cries, affronted. “I am adorable. ”
Three months into their stay at Cloud Recesses, and Wei Wuxian has finally snuck enough jars of Emperor’s Smile into his dormitory that they can have a proper night of fun. It felt impossible for a while, between the amount of alcohol they needed and having to hide from the watchful, critical eye of Lan Qiren, but Wei Wuxian persevered and succeeded. And now, he gets to enjoy the fruits of his labour with a night of excellent wine, decent peanuts, and the company of his best friend and brother. If he can somehow pull this off again, it may make the rest of their visit to Cloud Recesses a little less mind-numbing. There has surely never been a sect more tedious and dull than Gusu Lan.
As wine flows and conversation escalates, they are all inevitably drawn into a fight that has them drunkenly chasing each other around the room, heedless of furniture or the amount of noise they’re making. It almost feels like being back at home in Lotus Pier, staying up late and goofing off the way teenagers ought to. Wei Wuxian feels sorry for the Lans, growing up in a rigid, intolerant sect with no reprieve from the three-thousand rules that govern their every move and thought. It’s surely enough to drive someone to the brink of insanity. Maybe next time, once he befriends a few more trustworthy disciples from other sects, they can have a better, larger party. He’s certain someone else might be able to help him sneak up some more snacks from Caiyi Town, perhaps even dice or a deck of cards.
Of course, that fantasy remains just that—a fantasy. Because Lan Wangji, the icy, powerful Second Jade of Lan, sweeps in and Wei Wuxian watches in silent horror as his sharp, golden eyes land on the pile of emptied wine jars on the table.
“Alcohol is forbidden at Cloud Recesses,” he says coolly, piercing gaze sliding over to Wei Wuxian. “As I know you are aware.”
Wei Wuxian blushes. It wasn’t long ago that he’d been punished with copying out the entire list of Lan sect rules thrice under Lan Wangji’s vigilant watch, and he’d already been made aware of this particular rule the first night he arrived, when he tried to break in with two jars of Emperor’s Smile and was caught, again, by Lan Wangji. At first, Wei Wuxian thought to endear himself to this handsome older man, that he might break through Lan Wangji’s prickly exterior and find something softer inside, but there was no use. It seemed that Lan Wangji grew colder and more distant with each interaction, so Wei Wuxian decided to steer clear of him for fear of making it worse. He may not be the sect leader, but he’s still the renowned Hanguang-Jun , and Wei Wuxian always felt a sense of foreboding every time Lan Wangji’s dark, intense eyes followed him across the courtyard.
“Lan-er-gongzi—” Wei Wuxian whines, pouting, but is swiftly cut off.
“Nie Huaisang, Jiang Wanyin, return to your rooms,” Lan Wangji instructs sharply. “You will be disciplined in the punishment chamber in the morning.”
This drunk, it takes them all a moment to start moving, stumbling over each other, and propel themselves out the door. Wei Wuxian tries to follow them, but is quickly stopped by the sheath of a sword held against his chest. Slowly, he looks up at Lan Wangji with wide eyes.
“I did not say that you could leave,” Lan Wangji says, finally putting Bichen back down and using it to gesture to the cluttered table. “Clean this up.”
Wei Wuxian frowns, teetering on the edge of being too drunk, but just sober enough to have some fight left in him. “Why me? Why didn’t Jiang Cheng and Huaisang have to help?”
“This is your doing,” Lan Wangji states simply, taking him by the arm and pushing him across the room. Wei Wuxian can’t argue with that, even if he wants to. With a final shove, Lan Wangji forces him down onto his knees. “Clean.”
With a put-upon sigh, Wei Wuxian starts collecting peanut shells and dumping them back into the bags, then picking up the empty jars from where they’ve rolled around and under the table. He can’t help but sigh again when he realizes that there’s an entire jar that’s still full. What a waste!
Lan Wangji notices as well, because he reaches down and uncorks the jar. “Drink it.”
Wei Wuxian blinks up at him, alarmed. Maybe he misheard. “What?”
“Finish the jar,” Lan Wangji says slowly, as though talking to a child, and perhaps he thinks he is. While Lan Wangji is only a handful of inches taller than Wei Wuxian, he is ten years older, if not more. The stark difference in their ages and ranks feels only more pronounced now, with Wei Wuxian on his knees at Lan Wangji’s feet.
“It is not permitted to waste food or drink at Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji reminds him, and if he was capable of being smug, there may have been a whisper of that in his tone.
Is this a test? A joke? Will Wei Wuxian get doubly punished if he falls for it and polishes off this last jar? But Lan Wangji grows impatient, plucks the jar from Wei Wuxian’s hand, and holds it to his mouth. More out of shock than anything else, Wei Wuxian parts his lips, eyes flickering up to look at Lan Wangji. He barely spares Wei Wuxian a glance, entirely focused on the task at hand, instead.
Lan Wangji pours the wine slowly at first, letting Wei Wuxian swallow as he needs to, but he soon starts tilting the jar further, forcing Wei Wuxian’s head back in the process. His eyes water as his mouth is filled, flooded with wine, and he can’t swallow fast enough to keep himself from choking and coughing as it spills from the corners of his mouth and leaks down his chin. He struggles through it, gasping for air like he’s drowning, frantically grabbing at Lan Wangji’s robes in a plea for him to let up.
When he finally does, he tosses the empty jar aside. Wei Wuxian can’t bother trying to catch it before it rolls away, because Lan Wangji is gazing down at him with molten heat in his eyes, and Wei Wuxian is suddenly face-to-face with an unmistakable, unignorable bulge in the front of Lan Wangji’s robes.
Wei Wuxian swallows. “Lan-er-gongzi…?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, but cups Wei Wuxian’s face in his large, warm hand instead. He cradles his jaw and slips his thumb between Wei Wuxian’s lips, gently resting it atop his tongue.
Heart pounding, stunned into silence, Wei Wuxian closes his lips around it.
Lan Wangji inhales sharply.
“Wei Ying,” he murmurs, taking a dark and intimate tone, sending a chill down Wei Wuxian’s spine.
Boldly, around the thick finger in his mouth, he slurs in response, “Lan-er-gege.”
As though that last jar of Emperor’s Smile had finally caught up to him, everything suddenly feels like it’s moving in slow motion. Like they’re underwater and Wei Wuxian is anchored in place, unable to swim away as he watches Lan Wangji with round, glassy eyes.
Lan Wangji drops his sword onto the table, loosens his robes, and deftly unlaces his trousers to pull his thick, heavy cock out.
Wei Wuxian has seen other boys naked before. He’s sixteen years old, grew up with a brother, spent long, hot seasons swimming with a dozen other male Jiang sect disciples—of course he’d taken a look once or twice. But he had never in his life seen one this large, this intimidating, nor this close to his face. Lan Wangji gives himself a few rough strokes and Wei Wuxian can only stare breathlessly, catching glimpses of the wet, flushed head everytime it peeks out from his foreskin.
“You—I can’t—” he stammers, but it falls on deaf ears.
With Wei Wuxian’s mind foggy, his limbs loosened by wine, it’s all too easy for Lan Wangji to reach down and pry his mouth open in order to push his cock inside.
It’s immediately too much , filling Wei Wuxian’s mouth too quickly, tasting earthy and musky and feeling entirely foreign. He keens around it, a sound of fear and panic, but Lan Wangji moans lowly in response and shoves himself in deeper. He holds Wei Wuxian securely by the ponytail and pulls him forward onto his erection, not stopping until Wei Wuxian’s nose is buried in his pubic hair.
“Wei Ying can take it,” Lan Wangji says serenely, while Wei Wuxian gags, pulls at Lan Wangji’s robes, pounds at his legs with his fists. “Shh. Let me in.”
Wei Wuxian screws his eyes shut and tries to pull off once more, but Lan Wangji is too strong, too unyielding. In a last-ditch effort, he bares his teeth and tries to bite down, but Lan Wangji grabs him by the jaw just in time.
The scrape of teeth infuriates him, and the only warning Wei Wuxian receives is a chilling snarl before his mouth freezes entirely. His eyes fly open.
The Silencing Spell.
His lips and teeth are locked in place, unable to open or shut, creating a snug, perfect seal around Lan Wangji’s cock.
Lan Wangji takes handfuls of Wei Wuxian’s hair and shoves all the way in, with nothing left to hinder each long, endless thrust. Wei Wuxian’s tongue thrashes in his mouth, pushing back against the intrusion as he struggles to swallow the pooling saliva that threatens to choke him. He retches around the cockhead pounding into the back of his throat, tears welling in his eyes.
“Look at me,” Lan Wangji says. When Wei Wuxian refuses, he gives him a harsh slap on the cheek, enough to rattle him. He looks up, outraged.
“I knew this would be a better use for Wei Ying’s fucking mouth,” Lan Wangji taunts. “Perhaps the only use,” he adds, the sheer vulgarity of it sending heat and shame coursing through Wei Wuxian’s body. He wants to cry out against it, to shake his head no , but Lan Wangji is easily fucking into his warm, wet mouth like he belongs there, and Wei Wuxian wonders distantly if he’s right.
His jaw aches. He’s on the verge of vomiting. Lan Wangji still has him firmly by the hair, tugging cruelly. Yet Wei Wuxian’s own dick is beginning to stir, throbbing in his pants at every rough sound Lan Wangji makes above him.
And Lan Wangji knows, of course he does, because the corner of his lips turn up in a smirk and he exhales in an approximation of a laugh.
“Wei Ying is being uncharacteristically shy,” he observes. “Take it out. Show me what having your face fucked does to you.”
It’s embarrassment that makes him resist at first, but Lan Wangji forces his cock deep into Wei Wuxian’s throat until he feels the genuine threat of suffocation. With trembling hands, he fumbles his robes open, reaches into his trousers, and frees his half-hard dick. The cool night air on his hot skin makes him gasp, and he can’t help but stroke himself, bringing a fresh round of tears to his eyes. But the pleasure is sudden and overwhelming, blooming in contrast to the discomfort and pain he just endured, so he moans as freely as he dares. Even the erection in his mouth begins to feel welcome, pacifying him as he chases his own release.
“Beautiful,” Lan Wangji says, chuckling. “Knew Wei Ying would be the perfect little cockslut.”
The words are searing, humiliating. It’s only then that he realizes Lan Wangji had stopped thrusting into his mouth, and that he had started bobbing his head on his own, greedily sucking Lan Wangji’s length down of his own accord.
Wei Wuxian’s cheeks are on fire. In his jumble of emotions, he knows there’s anger somewhere, yet he can’t quite grab hold of it. It slips further out of his grasp the faster he jerks himself off, the more eagerly he takes Lan Wangji into his throat. Wei Wuxian looks up at him again, finding himself startled and curiously pleased at Lan Wangji’s parted lips and heaving chest, at the way his ears have gone pink in excitement.
“Wei Ying,” he groans softly, dabbing at the wetness in the corners of Wei Wuxian’s eyes with his thumb. “My Wei Ying. So shamelessly sweet for me.”
Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian chants in his mind. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. The cold, aloof, taciturn Hanguang-Jun, praising him and panting at the sight of him.
It’s intoxicating. He leaks steadily over his fingers, feeling the sharp edge of climax approaching.
“You were made for this,” Lan Wangji says tenderly. “Will you be this soft and obedient when I take you?”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes widen.
“Or,” Lan Wangji continues, grabbing a fistful of Wei Wuxian’s hair and brutally pounding into his throat again, deeper and faster than before. “Will you scream and fight back?”
Unexpectedly, pleasure crests and Wei Wuxian’s orgasm strikes like lightning. He cries through it as he comes, bucking up into his fist and spilling onto the floor, and he’s given no time to catch his breath before something hot and bitter floods his mouth. He retches in panic, coughing and choking as Lan Wangji pets his hair and shushes him.
“Settle,” he says gently. “I will release you when you’ve drunk it all.”
Wei Wuxian fights past the urge to gag at the taste, swallowing carefully until his mouth is finally emptied of come and spit. The act of suckling grows mortifyingly soothing, and he realizes he’s whimpering when Lan Wangji shushes him once more.
Then the muscles of his jaw loosen, and Lan Wangji’s spent cock finally slips from his mouth.
Lan Wangji’s hand comes down again, and for a split-second, Wei Wuxian braces for impact—but Lan Wangji just cups his aching jaw and rubs soothing circles into his skin. A moment later, he feels a cool burst of spiritual energy pass through him, and the soreness dissipates.
Wei Wuxian peeks up at him, but Lan Wangji looks back impassively, swiping a thumb over his bottom lip before he lets go. “Clean yourself up. You will be disciplined in the morning.”
Wei Wuxian gapes at him. “You can’t be fucking serious, Lan Zha—”
He hears the slap before he registers the pain of it, his own hands flying up to cover his sharply stinging cheek.
Above him, Lan Wangji is cold and still.
Wei Wuxian takes a shaky breath. “Lan-er-gongzi,” he corrects himself hoarsely.
Lan Wangji grabs his sword off the table and turns to leave. Wei Wuxian briefly entertains the idea of throwing a jar of wine at him, but Lan Wangji pauses in the doorway and glances back over his shoulder.
“I will be in charge of your punishment,” he promises—or threatens —before sliding the door shut, and leaving Wei Wuxian alone in the quiet emptiness of his room.