off the deep end

I wish I could say there was actually something of substance here but there is literally nothing lol just some self-indulgent horn.e hours and catharsis (ft. stressed and horny zhancheng because if that ain't a mood)
just a note, there are a number of crude jokes and references to death and murder here so please keep that in mind. also, use of the word slut
papapa vibes here, here, and here. and for general zhancheng vibes here because this song always makes me think of them😭

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Truth be told, Jiang Cheng is well aware of whatever vices he may possess.

Hot-headed. He’s heard that on more than one occasion; not to mention how much Wei Wuxian and jie seem to get a kick out of it.

It just so happens he inherited his mother’s temper. And his father’s inability to relay his feelings in the heat of the moment. A fine blueprint for any functioning human being, if he may say so himself.

His gaze cuts to the figure sitting across from him.

Prim. Virtuous. Gusu’s corporate darling.

He sneers.

Lan Wangji studies him, looking for all the world as though he can hardly be bothered with these processions.

Jiang Cheng rankles a bit at that, fists clenching where they’re rested in his lap. His eyes flick to Lan Wangji’s; goading, as is their wont. Perhaps that can be their trademark. Might be one of the few things they agree on.

Lan Wangji raises his chin, one leg crossing over the other in his silent regard. Jiang Cheng seethes.

They’re getting nowhere with these acquisitions and neither seem willing to budge. Shocking.

Another day, another stalemate.

If he doesn’t end up wringing the other’s neck with his bare hands by the end of this week, that will be a feat in and of itself.

Somewhere afar, he knows Wei Wuxian is keeling over at his predicament.

The bastard.

His eye twitches, the vein at his temple throbbing.

He catches the glint in Lan Wangji’s eyes then, there one moment and gone the next. Akin to amusement—at their utter lack of productivity, that they’ve agreed upon nothing in the span of hours and the fact that he is seconds away from blowing his lid.

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Cheng counts back from ten.

He makes it to eight before contemplating what the odds are of getting away with murder.

_______

“—Insufferable! Wen Ning, I’m going to string him up by the feet and break his legs!”

“Ah, Jiang-zong—“

“Why are you calling me that.” Jiang Cheng frowns, peering at him through the rearview mirror. “It’s weird enough you do it in public. Didn’t I tell you already? When it’s the two of us, just drop the formalities.”

Making a turn, Wen Ning’s eyes flick up to meet his through the mirror. “Jiang-zong...”

“Wen Ning.”

There’s a pause, then, “Jiang Cheng.”

Appeased, he sits back only for his face to devolve into a scowl. “Mm. Now where was I? Ah, right. That bastard Lan Wangji...”

Wen Ning sighs, anticipating a long drive home.

_______

Contrary to popular belief, Jiang Cheng does not generally enter one of these meetings spoiling for a fight.

Lan Wangji just has a way of bringing it to him—plopping it right into his lap...only to pick it up and smear it all over his face.

Bastard.

Currently, he’s on the verge of drilling holes into his head. Straight through that pretentious, objectively passable face. This business deal is responsible for the rapid depletion of his brain cells. Must be a day in the life of Wei Wuxian.

Nie Huaisang coughs lightly beside him, waving his fan idly.

He barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

“So,” he enunciates. “I presume you’ve had a chance to review the documents and our proposal.”

“We have.” Lan Wangji spares the man at his side a brief glance before his eyes settle on him again. Jiang Cheng bristles.

Lan Xichen nods, cutting in, “It is...a substantial percentage of our assets.”

Predictable, as expected. He schools his expression with aplomb his mother would preen over.

“You’re right.” His smile is gracious enough. Probably. “Sixty-five percent of Gusu’s stocks is no small facet. But,” his grin turns wry then. “Forgive me if I overstep, but there was word Lan-zongcai and his executives were looking to consolidate within the market anyways?”

“False.”

He stiffens, fingers curling around his pen. Nie Huaisang‘s gaze flits between him and Lan Wangji, the air thinning.

Refer to: Lan Wangji, prime culprit of Jiang Wanyin’s qi deficiency.

“Hearsay is hearsay, Jiang-zongcai.” Lan Wangji continues with a hint of a smile. Reserved, distant—something incredibly well-practiced.

Nie Huaisang quickly clears his throat when he notices the way his pen is close to being bent out of shape. Ah, escaped his notice entirely.

Jiang Cheng plasters a smile. Diplomacy, he reminds himself. Lesson one.

As though sensing his turmoil, Lan Wangji’s eyes locks with his. After a moment, he leans back in his chair. Pleased, almost. Jiang Cheng is close to spitting up blood.

“Ah,” Lan Xichen interjects. Which is wise because Jiang Cheng is a breath away from hurling himself across the table and strangling Lan Wangji on the spot. ”Of course, we would not be so hasty to reject Jiang-zongcai’s offer without first considering its merits. Wangji, what do you think?”

Jiang Cheng holds his breath. Piercing eyes sweep over him, something hidden within those depths. Just as quickly, it is disguised beneath a polite veneer.

“Mn.” His lips lift in a semblance of a smile. “Perhaps Lan-fuzongcai and I require more time to think it over. It is a generous offer indeed, Jiang-zongcai. We thank you for your consideration.”

Lan Wangji gives a light dip of the head then, a pleasantry so rehearsed he feels his insides curdle.

Nie Huaisang bumps him gently with his foot and he forces himself to unclench his jaw. Reciprocating the gesture, his eyes fall on Lan Wangji. On that same infuriating expression, far too complacent yet perceptible for his liking.

A prison sentence is looking less daunting by the day.

_______

Like the sick fuck he is, Wei Wuxian crows with laughter when he relays the day’s events.

“Lan Zhan, he—!” Before bursting into another fit. Useless, he thinks. Utterly useless. He should rethink his choice in acquaintances.

Thank heavens he has jie to help temper his ire, otherwise Wei Wuxian would have been the first victim on his hit list. Right after Lan Wangji of course.

The bastard.

Thinking about it makes his insides writhe again, and ah. There goes the chopsticks.

“Yinyin,” Jiang Yanli chides.

“Sorry, jie.”

He is so fortunate to have someone like jie around. Someone levelheaded and gracious and exactly the person to discourage him from committing a crime that would land him in jail. Not too sure he’d be able to buy his way out of that one.

Although if it’s Lan Wangji one could argue he is doing his country a service, so perhaps—

“—Wanyin!”

“...Sorry, jie.”

She takes pity on him. At least someone empathizes. He glares at Wei Wuxian, shoving him aside when the other drapes himself across his lap. Futile; the brat sticks to him.

“It sounds like typical business strategy,” his jie says. “Gusu isn’t going to relent right away. They’ve been established in the market for some time now, it’s only recently that the market has shifted so they’re probably determining the best direction for the company first. And these negotiations usually take time, don’t they?”

Jiang Cheng is loath to admit she has a point. He crosses his arms instead, ignoring the Wei Wuxian-shaped lump plastered to him. Disgusting.

“Jie.” It’s an effort not to let it come out a whine. “Why couldn’t you have taken over the company instead? I’m sure laoma would have been happier.”

Jie is used to his whinging by now, he thinks, because the only thing she does is dangle a warm mug in his face. Tactful, yet effective. He accepts it without complaint.

“That’s because Yanli-jie is too forthcoming and gracious for that corporate bullshit.” No one ever asks for Wei Wuxian’s input and still he finds a way to give it. “You, on the other hand...”

He deadpans. “Excuse me.”

Wei Wuxian grins up at him like the fool he is. “Snakes thrive in their natural habitat.”

“....”

That’s how Jiang Yanli finds herself between them, attempting to pry Jiang Cheng’s hands from Wei Wuxian’s hair.

“A-ah, Jiang Cheng!”

The wind is particularly noisy tonight.

“Ack—stop!”

“Yinyin.”

With a final tug, he lets go. Not before ensuring he’s yanked a few strands out however. He sniffs, straightening out the wrinkles in his suit.

“Jie.” Wei Wuxian pouts. Reprehensible.

“Wei Wuxian.” Bringing the mug to his lips, he bares his teeth. “Anything else to add?”

If possible, the other turns even more stomach-churning.

“Yanli-jie,” he repeats, crowding her now. “Look...Yinyin enjoys bullying me. Too cruel.”

As he said—absolutely reprehensible.

Whatever higher powers Jiang Yanli possesses, that seems to be the only thing capable of getting them to settle down. Not without getting caught in the crossfire of their angry gesturing however. She sighs, resigned to her fate. At least she has her baby...among the two other babies she ended up with custody over.

“Shall I break your ribs instead?”

“See,” sniffs Wei Wuxian, curling closer to his jie.

“You two.”

Chastened, they shoot each other glares before grumbling apologies in unison.

“Anyways.” Wei Wuxian looks askance at him. “Maybe that’s why Lan Zhan refuses to give in. He knows you’ll tyrannize him afterwards the way you do me.”

“Wei Wuxian, you have not one functioning brain cell do you?”

“Mm. Just half of one.” A smarmy grin.

Jiang Cheng is tired. Today has been a grueling ride for the human condition, please someone give him a break.

“Maybe I should have you talk to him,” he mutters dangerously. “Make you use your powers of persuasion.”

“Ha! As if that fuddy-duddy would ever listen to me! Pft, Jiang Cheng...if you haven’t figured it out already, Lan Zhan does what he wants.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Jiang Cheng’s eyes flare, his temper stirring all over again. That, he certainly knows.

Stubborn. Argumentative. Monumental pain in his ass.

Check, check, and check.

The way he sets his blood afire—

“Anyways, it’s so weird that the two of you butt heads like this,” Wei Wuxian muses. “Especially considering how much you remind me of each other. Two sides of the same coin.” He laughs. “Then again, maybe that’s exactly why.”

The humor is lost on him. Wei Wuxian clearly intends to spare him no face whatsoever.

He rises after downing his tea.

“Thank you, jie. I’ll take my leave first.”

“Eh?” Wei Wuxian cranes his neck. “I thought you were staying tonight?”

“Mm, I can’t. Sorry.” He retrieves his cell, tapping out a quick message to Wen Ning. “Things to take care of, and early morning tomorrow.” His expression sours just thinking of it.

“Ah, you’re going home then Yinyin?”

“Mm.”

He scrolls through his messages. Wen Ning texts back and he reaches for his coat. Pressing a quick kiss to his jie’s forehead, he thanks her again before nudging Wei Wuxian lightly with his foot by way of farewell.

“Give A-Ling a kiss for me.”

“You—!” Sittting up, Wei Wuxian points at him before turning to jie. “Jie, give A-Ling two kisses from me.”

Rolling his eyes, Jiang Cheng slips on his loafers. “Wei Wuxian, go find something better to do with your time.”

“Stop trying to steal best jiujiu rights from beneath my feet!”

Lips twitching, he flips him off before heading out. Eyes drifting to his screen, he quickly pockets his cell.

Wen Ning waits downstairs and he settles in, door closing with a thud beside him.

_______

They’re in Gusu’s conference room.

Jiang Cheng is still exhausted. Still homicidal. Nothing has changed aside from the setting.

Lan Wangji sits across from him once more. They are without either of their partners today, and the forecast is looking no brighter now than it was all week.

“Seventy percent of Gusu’s shares.”

He has an inkling the other was awaiting an up in the offer. It is, indeed, how they navigate.

Those brows lift. It grates on his nerves. Again, nothing has changed.

“Jiang-zongcai. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

Ingratiating bastard.

Jiang Cheng feels steam escaping his ears, blood pressure spiking as is the norm when in Lan Wangji’s vicinity. He can’t be good for his health.

“In exchange,” he cuts in because there is no give without a take. “Future endeavors involving those assets fall into Yunmeng’s hands entirely.” This time, he is the one who sits back comfortably. His head tilts, lips twisting in a smirk. “We will, of course, continue to take Gusu’s input into consideration.”

Lan Wangji’s face remains unreadable.

He has the chutzpah, Jiang Cheng will give him that. However, he also knows the more Lan Wangji is weighed down with considerations the more stoic he turns. Perhaps he should be rejoicing then?

Meeting that gaze defiantly, he refuses to back down. He tries not to get too ahead of himself; might not be wise to reveal his hand this early.

“Mm.”

Also, he detests Lan Wangji’s brevity. He feels the need to put that out there somewhere in the universe—speak it into existence, for his own sake perhaps.

A muscle along his jaw ticks. “Care to elaborate?”

Something flickers in those eyes.

“Not at this point.”

Jiang Cheng forcibly remains seated. The temptation to do otherwise—hand coiling around that throat until his airway is restricted—is potent indeed. He remembers that he has jie and A-Ling to stick around for. The peacock as well, he supposes. Oh, right. And Wei Wuxian.

Forcing a smile, he threads his fingers carefully before him.

“Lan-zongjian is particularly modest with his words today.”

Not taking the bait, Lan Wangji shrugs. His gaze remains impassive and Jiang Cheng remains close to inflicting bodily harm.

He’s doing it on purpose. The bastard is trying to provoke him.

“Forgive me.”

It sets his teeth on edge.

Lan Wangji continues, “Jiang-zongcai has given us much to consider is all.”

“Let me guess. You require more time to think it through?”

At that, Lan Wangji’s mouth curls. “Mn.”

It’s shaped like a taunt. Jiang Cheng sees through it easily enough, debating whether to entertain him further.

“Alright.”

Not today.

It won’t do to come off desperate in front of the competition after all. For now he will keep his cards close to his chest. When the time is right, he can lay them flat.

“As Lan-zongjian wishes.”

The way it nearly kills him to say it. Lan Wangji seems to sense that as well, if the familiar twinkle in his eyes is anything to go by. He’s enjoying this, he realizes. Dangling his compliance before him, toying with his restraint.

He thanks the heavens there is a barrier separating them beneath the table, disguising the way his hands ball into fists.

“We thank you again for your kindness, Jiang-zongcai.”

Mindful of his tone, he answers, “My pleasure. Thank you for your time, Lan-zongjian.”

All the while, his eyes blaze a heated trail across the room.

Standing up, Lan Wangji matches his tempo. With a cordial smile, he gestures to the door.

“Please,” says Lan Wangji before readjusting the cuffs of his suit. “Allow me to see you out.”

He nearly snorts. But refrains—he is civilized after all. And familiar enough with custom to buy into it.

A nod. “Thank you. My apologies for the trouble.”

“None whatsoever.” Lan Wangji takes a step in his direction. Reaching the door, he opens it for him. “Please.”

Ever the genteel sort.

He withholds his comment, stepping out with a thanks. The other follows suit, maintaining a respectful distance as they make their way towards the elevator. He picks up on the glances and whispers directed their way but pays it little heed; speculation, likely, as to what business the chairman of Yunmeng has here.

Eventually, their strides sync up. Lan Wangji is a solid presence beside him—he cuts an imposing figure. The thought elicits a smirk.

He wonders if it’s a corporate persona they all adopt at some point. Wouldn’t surprise him.

They reach the elevator doors. He moves for the button but Lan Wangji beats him to it, arm intercepting his as he crowds in to press down. He is noticeably present now, hovering in his space.

His eyes flick up, stalling when he finds that gaze fixed on him. His throat works.

He catches a whiff of something then.

What is that—cedarwood? Bergamot?

The thought will be humorous enough later, when he realizes he’s become a trope. Straightening his tie, he arches a brow; Lan Wangji continues to linger.

Bold.

The bell dings.

Jiang Cheng steps in and away from Lan Wangji. Turning, their eyes meet. A subtle nod of acknowledgment before the doors begin to close, gazes locked until he sees only his reflection.

Ignoring the warmth at his nape, he watches the digital values decline.

Toiling day indeed.

_______

“—the literal bane of my existence, Wen Ning. I’m telling you, he knows how difficult he’s being!”

Wen Ning is convinced he deserves a raise. For putting up with Jiang Cheng this long. Second thought: maybe he is twice overdue for a raise.

“What is the purpose of delaying like this!? It’d be sabotage for Gusu to turn down the deal...ah, I’m really going out of my mind!”

Wen Ning can relate.

“Wen Ning!”

“Yes, Jiang-zong—“

“What did I say!?”

With another sigh, “Jiang Cheng.”

“Thank you—see! It’s not impossible for you to follow orders...why can’t that bastard do the same!”

Wen Ning snorts. Heavens, he forgets how much of a insistent brat Jiang Cheng can be. He had grown accustomed to his corporate face, he supposes.

Then again, it is Jiang Wanyin he is talking about so does one ever truly forget. As the other launches into another tirade he decides no, highly unlikely.

“Tch, forget it.” Jiang Cheng seems to collect himself after a moment and Wen Ning holds back laughter, eyes trained on the road.

At times he does forget how quickly Jiang Cheng had to grow up. Inheriting a business he had no proclivity for, with little space for his own ambitions and reflection. The thought is followed with a pang.

Stealing a peek through the rearview mirror, he sees Jiang Cheng tapping away quickly at his phone, with something resembling a pout.

He smiles.

What he was able to accomplish with his family’s legacy however, shifting direction and rebuilding it with his own vision and drive—that’s something worth acknowledging, he thinks.

Wen Ning is proud of him.

“Wen Ning.” He’s definitely not imagining the gripe in his tone now.

Ai, this fellow.

“I—I haven’t had xianbing in a while,” Jiang Cheng continues lightly. “How about...why don’t we get some?”

Wen Ning’s smile softens.

“If it’s what Jiang-zongcai requests.”

A huff. “Shut up.”

Grinning, he makes the detour.

_______

“They wish to do what now?” Tone frigid, it further cools the more Nie Huaisang reveals.

“Ah,” Nie Huaisang scratches his head. “Truthfully, I don’t know much...and don’t take my word for it, but, er—“

“Huaisang.”

“Alright, alright. Aiyo.” He sounds nervous. It does little to temper the flames kindling in his belly. “There’s talk that Wen Corporation is making bids for Gusu’s assets...underneath the table. Or, at least they’re trying.” At the look on Jiang Wanyin’s face he quickly adds, “Ah, but I wouldn’t worry if I were you Jiang-zong!”

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. Summons what remnants of patience he possesses.

“And why is that?”

Never mind that the Wen group had to resort to such underhanded measures, knowing Yunmeng already sought acquisitions of Gusu’s shares. The messy, entangled past between Wen and Yunmeng goes unmentioned. This feels like a measured step—no, Jiang Cheng is convinced it is.

Nie Huaisang’s discomfort is evident now.

“They—well, I’m sure you’ve heard but they have...a bit of a complicated past with Gusu. It’s, well.”

He had been aware, though not of the specifics. Word travels fast in corporate circles, particularly when it involves dirt on the competitors. And in this realm, every contender is a threat.

His eyes narrow. “How complicated?”

“Eh, complicated enough.” Nie Huaisang’s fan whips out. “To the point it turned personal.”

This—now this gives Jiang Wanyin pause.

“Say more.”

He doesn’t notice the way he has grown eerily still in his seat.

Nie Huaisang seems to consider something, eyeing him warily over the top of his fan. After seconds, he sighs. Then quickly turns to the door of his office to lock it, peering through the windows quickly before pressing the button to activate the blinds. When they’re enshrouded and free from prying eyes, he turns back and makes his way towards him again.

An envelope is tossed in front of him. He looks up, a question in his eyes.

Another sigh. “Everything you’re looking for should be in there. Some documents involving Wen and Gusu’s exchange from several years ago.”

Jiang Cheng looks at it through new eyes.

“Wen Corporation were looking to merge with Gusu and increase their earnings per share. But the bids made were, well, insulting. There was no way Gusu would have taken it, and even if the offer was generous...I don’t think Lan-zongcai would have seriously considered let alone accepted an offer from the Wens.”

He nods, concession for him to continue.

“Well, here’s where it gets messy.” Nie Huaisang begins pacing. “Gusu didn’t have the most...amicable relationship with them to begin with.”

He snorts. Does anyone?

“Lan Wangji was fresh out of business school at the time...they assumed he would be a weak point. The chink in Gusu’s armor.”

Nie Huaisang has his attention now.

“I think Wen-zongcai was holding out on him budging eventually, but well. You’ve been around Lan-zongjian long enough...you know what he’s like.”

That he does. It’s also why it comes as no surprise that the Wens’ measures were futile to begin with. Lan Wangji would have sooner broken his own legs than sell out his family and align with the Wen group like that. He doubts he would have been that impressionable either.

He toys with the ring on his finger. “And?”

Pausing mid-step, Nie Huaisang eyes him through his peripheral.

“And when the Wen group realized Lan Wangji was not going to cooperate, they switched tactics.”

Something about Huaisang’s tone sets off warning bells.

“There were some...photos circulating at the time, while he was still in university. Photos that were potentially incriminating. Of him in certain districts and bars and, well. I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

Sitting straighter, he feels his hackles rise.

“Blackmail?”

A careful nod. “They doubled down on their offer and promised to bury the photos beneath the rug in exchange for Gusu’s compliance.”

The breath is punched out of Jiang Cheng. His ring is twisted so hard it leaves a mark. Finding his voice, he says, “They threatened to out him?”

“En.” Fan fluttering, he adds, “Said they would leak the photos to their shareholders and every media outlet that would listen. It would have set Gusu back at the time, they were barely getting their foot through the door.”

Jiang Cheng says nothing; is only attuned to the slight tremor in his hands.

“Go on.”

“Well, Lan Wangji disappeared from the public eye for a while. Three months maybe? He wouldn’t go anywhere, kept himself secluded I believe.”

An exhalation.

“Messed him up a bit, from what da ge tells me. But, well,” a laugh, “I suppose the Wens’ first misstep was underestimating Xichen-ge’s wrath. I’m telling you, that sweet face of his is misleading.” A swat of his fan. “And my, how he brought hell over their heads.”

Behind that amicable disposition, he suspected more to Lan Xichen—daggers hidden behind smiles and an unbending loyalty to his kin.

“Pooled all of Gusu’s resources, and while they might not have had much traction in the market just yet what they did have was money. And, well, you know what they say: money talks.” Nie Huaisang pauses then, grin unraveling. “Pursued legal action and threatened to get the state involved. Even reached out to da ge for his connections. You know, now that I think about it...I really believe Xichen-ge intended to not spare a single soul even if that meant Gusu’s demise.”

It’s understandable. After all, had it been his family he would have ensured there was nothing left of them in the aftermath.

Waving his fan carefully, Nie Huaisang continues, “Suffice to say, Wen Corporation eventually relented and dropped the issue. I’m sure there were things that occurred behind closed doors which contributed to that. They didn’t approach Gusu again after that...until now, that is.”

A decisive thought. “They’ve been plotting.”

Nie Huaisang nods. “Seems so.”

With a sigh, Jiang Cheng forces himself to relax. There’s an ache building in his muscles, strain from the week taking its toll.

After a moment, he asks, “The photos...what ever happened to them?”

The thing with Nie Huaisang is that he has always been more perceptive than he lets on. There is a cunning he embodies, consciously disguised amongst the right crowd; it’s one of the qualities he values in his director, knowing it works to their advantage in select circles. Very little gets past him.

He shrugs. “Destroyed possibly. Perhaps Xichen-ge dug up his own dirt on them. More likely than not, however, they’re still floating around.” Thoughtfully, Nie Huaisang says, “It is unlike the Wens to go down quietly without a fight.”

Letting out a breath, he reaches for a calm he is unsure exists. No use getting riled, there are more productive ways to channel his ire. He has work to do after all.

_______

Jiang Cheng has not moved from his spot within the hour, hands folded beneath his chin and documents scattered across his desk.

His mind turns the information over and over again, the steady hum of the air con the only sound in the room.

Finally, with practiced ease he unlocks his cell, scrolling to the desired name before dialing.

Bringing the phone to his ears, he waits as it rings.

A click.

“Huaisang.”

Recognition from the other side.

“Contact Wen group’s shareholders. Find a collective time, schedule a meeting.”

A pause. His eyes trail over lines on paper, lips lifting slowly.

“Yes. Every last one.”

_______

Wei Wuxian lurches from his place on the couch. “You’re shitting me.”

Jiang Cheng flips a page. “Mm, why would I do that? You’re full enough of it as is.”

Ignoring him, Wei Wuxian powers on. “Jiang Cheng, you can’t be serious. We’re talking about Wen Corporation here—a hostile takeover? You have to be kidding.”

Calmly, he looks up. “Do I generally kid about these things?”

Gaping, Wei Wuxian is at a loss. “But...but why?”

Shrugging, he returns to his magazine. “It was long overdue. Yunmeng collects its debts sooner or later.”

That’s not a lie. Wen Corporation and Yunmeng share a complicated history; he has harbored suspicions since his parents’ untimely death however has been unsuccessful thus far in securing evidence to compromise them. It is not a reach to say the Wens are adept at covering up their tracks.

Which means he just needs to get creative with his devices. If he is unable to jeopardize them this like this, he need only find another way to bring them to their knees. And make no mistake—bring them to their knees, he will.

He quashes a grin.

“...Fair enough.” Wei Wuxian says it with a sigh. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into. Proxy fights are ugly, and it’s not like you can fully trust any of the Wens’ shareholders. Snakes, the lot of them.”

“Not unlike me, you mean?”

At that, Wei Wuxian snorts, leaning into him. “Jiang Cheng, though it kills me...believe me when I say you are, without a doubt, the best of them.”

How charitable.

Small matter, nonetheless. Rarely has pacifism achieved the desired results.

“It’s interesting,” continues Wei Wuxian. “I remember Lan Zhan being dragged into complications with them before. Some shady shit.” His voice hardens a touch then. “Perhaps you’re onto something after all.”

His voice remains level. “I’m so glad you see eye to eye with me on this. Whatever would I have done without your approval.”

A sharp bark of laughter. “Fuck off.” Then, “Awfully coincidental is all. Ah, well. Karma works in mysterious ways.”

“Hm.”

“How’d you get all that dirt on them anyways?”

Another flip of the page. “Huaisang.”

He perks up. “Huaisang? Mm, yeah, why am I not surprised. That does sound like him.”

The way he says it makes Jiang Cheng recoil.

“Once again, I am urging you to stop trying to fuck my director.”

“Jiang Cheng! How crude!” His grin turns wolfish. “It wouldn’t be fucking, we’d be making love.”

He shudders—there are words never meant to be brought into existence.

“Disgusting.”

Laughing, Wei Wuxian sprawls over him. Pestering him as is his specialty; one of these days he’ll break his legs for it.

“God, you’re just like Lan Zhan sometimes.”

He scowls. What an offensive comparison.

“Both so prickly and captives to your emotions.” A laugh. “Not to mention your propensity for holding a grudge. Ai, how I put up with the both of you I have no clue.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Wei Wuxian comes up with the most nonsensical things; what his mind will conjure up when allowed free rein. Tragic.

“Well!” With that, he slaps Jiang Cheng lightly on the back, eliciting a hiss as he stiffens. “Eh?” Sitting up, Wei Wuxian eyes him suspiciously. “What’s the matter with you? I barely touched you.”

Glancing elsewhere, he scoots further away. “Nothing, just caught me off guard. Strained a muscle around there, it’s still tender.”

“On your back?”

Peeved, he snaps, “Yes, and what? Are you going to ask questions all day?”

“Aiyo Jiang Cheng, you’re being extra touchy today. Relax. I was just worried.”

He glares.

Admittedly, he does feel a trace of regret. Perhaps this week has really done a number on him, seemingly braving one shit storm after another. He attributes that to his outburst but still.

“...Sorry.”

This draws a hoot of laughter. “Jiang Wanyin, was that an apology that just came out of your mouth? Quick—where’s my phone. Let me record this!”

Shoving the other off, he’s careful not to make rash movements. “Shut up. You’re so boring.”

Wei Wuxian only laughs harder. “Ok, Lan Zhan 2.0!”

His laughter is promptly cut off by a throw pillow to the face.

_______

Jiang Cheng has barely stepped inside the lift when he hears a please hold behind him.

Lan Xichen’s face appears, cordial smile intact as he nods his thanks.

Shifting, he inches to the side to allow adequate space between them. The doors close.

“Jiang-zongcai.”

He nods. “Lan-fuzongcai.”

“Thank you.”

Humming, he answers, “Not a problem.”

Silence ensues. The absence of one director in particular is noted.

Clearing his throat, he poses lightly, “Lan-fuzongcai, it’s just you today?”

From his peripheral, Lan Xichen smiles.

“Ah, Wangji...he was held up at a prior event. He left separately and should be meeting us here shortly.”

So that’s how it is.

There’s a chime before the doors to the lift open. Gesturing, he waits for Lan Xichen to step out first.

They walk in companionable silence, a safe distance maintained as he stays just a half-step behind. When they reach the conference room, he moves ahead to open it for them.

At the click of the door behind him, he waits for Lan Xichen to take a seat before following suit.

“Thank you again for making the trip here, Lan-fuzongcai. I understand it’s not always of convenience.”

Another polite smile. “Ah, it’s the least we can do when Jiang-zongcai has been hospitable and accommodating thus far.”

Is that how he’d classify it?

He dips his head in acknowledgment nonetheless. “Thank you for your kindness, Lan-fuzongcai.”

Between them, there is a stilted pause before, “Jiang-zongcai. If I may be so bold...”

Jiang Cheng observes him curiously. There’s something in his tone which nabs his attention.

“I have heard what Jiang-zongcai has done. What he plans to do, really...with regards to Wen Corporation.”

News truly does spread like wildfire. It occurs to him, then, that Lan Xichen must not be without his own connections. Duly noted.

“Ah, that,” Jiang Cheng reclines in his seat, legs crossing primly. “And just what have you heard, if I may ask Lan-fuzongcai?”

Now that he looks closer, there is a resemblance between Lan Xichen and his brother he now discerns—a sort of calculated civility they share in the board room.

“All hearsay.” That smile is equally practiced, a shadow of someone else he knows. “However, on the off-chance it were more than that...please know that Yunmeng would have nothing but my heartfelt gratitude.” With that, a layer beneath his mask is uncovered.

The piece that would sacrifice everything for his brother come hell or high water, he supposes.

Something passes between them—an acknowledgment, and he finds himself latching onto it. Words don’t need to be spoken for him to understand what’s being conveyed; what it signifies.

Instead, Jiang Cheng sits with it.

“You know, Lan-fuzongcai. If you signed off on our deal, I’d really be inclined to believe you then.”

What can he say? Once an opportunist, always an opportunist.

Lan Xichen laughs softly then, some of the ice thawing from his features. Something about it eases his guard.

“And risk losing my head for it?” There is something nearly fond to his tone. “I’m afraid the one you’ll have to persuade is my brother.” A knowing glance directed his way. “Good luck with that.”

He withholds a groan. Sadistic.

“What I can tell you,” continues Xichen. “Is that he’s generally more agreeable after a sweet or two. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

Funny how that almost looks like amusement in Lan Xichen’s eyes.

“He‘ll be finalizing paperwork at Gusu this evening, should anyone wish to further discuss negotiations if the outcome here is not ideal.” A hint of a grin. “Hypothetically speaking of course.”

Jiang Cheng smirks. “Of course.”

“Mm.”

There’s a knock at the door then and he calls for them to enter.

Lan Wangji slips through before shutting the door behind him.

He’s donning a fitted two piece today, his tie a shade off and Jiang Cheng casts an appraising eye. His long, sleek hair is styled neatly in a half updo; the rest falling to the front.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Rising, he waits for Lan Wangji to find his seat before sitting again.

Meeting the other’s gaze across the table, he rearranges his expression into something modest once more.

Stealing a glance in Lan Xichen’s direction, he finds him smiling.

Feeling unusually high in spirits, he holds out on this meeting possibly—finally—ensuring the outcome he so desires.

_______

Scratch that—he’s never wanted to break someone’s legs more.

Lan Wangji. That bastard.

He is beginning to think the other is beyond reason, purposely invoking his rage while striving to make his life miserable.

Jiang Cheng is at wits’ end.

All the while, Lan Wangji appears perfectly unruffled. Not a hair out of place while he watches him nearly deviate into the spiritual realm.

Again—the perverse bastard.

Two hours and he is still no closer to securing the deal; with Lan Wangji still refusing to give even an inch. He swears the other is trying to send him to an early grave. And then maybe steal Yunmeng from under his feet after he’s gone. That’s the only plausible explanation.

The obstinate brute.

He seethes all over again.

Who, exactly, did he spurn in his past life to deserve this?

Jiang Cheng is in the midst of incinerating him in his mind when Lan Xichen excuses himself to take a call.

Which leaves him and the jerk in the same room together, alone. With no obstacles in between should he choose to beat the other senseless.

Deep breaths like you practiced.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji watches with a keen eye. And a trace of humor, is it?

This man has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. He really thinks himself invincible! One day when Jiang Cheng actually does obliterate him from this world, what then?

“Jiang-zongcai seems...conflicted.”

He can make out the slight lilt to his mouth as he speaks and he genuinely has no idea what to say to that. He has moved past anger, now there is just a crevasse where his brain used to be.

“Lan-zongjian is mistaken. There is no conflict at all.”

This time, he knows he’s not making it up: Lan Wangji is noticeably biting back a smile.

Jie, I know I promised to stick around for A-Ling but the devil is working extra hard today.

“Ah, forgive me then.” There is mirth in Lan Wangji’s eyes and blood on Jiang Cheng’s tongue. “So long as Jiang-zongcai is not under any undue stress.”

Stress? No. What I’m under right now is Guanyin’s guidance to not pulverize you!

“Thank you for your concern, Lan-zongjian.” The words are forced, his face pinched.

Lan Wangji coughs, hiding a smile behind his fist. When he looks up, he is the image of refinement once again.

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitches.

Perhaps it’s time he gave his therapist a call.

_______

He’s left to see Lan Wangji off again.

Lan Xichen—the traitor—vanished promptly, evidently needing to rush to a board meeting that Lan Wangji, conveniently enough, is exempt from.

Which leaves the two of them to tie up whatever loose ends remain.

What a fortuitous turn of events.

“Just how long do you intend to drag this out, Lan-zongjian?” Jiang Cheng flattens his upturned collar, tone blithe. “Is it really in Gusu’s best interest to resist for long?”

He receives a placid smile in return.

His lips furl.

“My apologies if we’ve come off as insincere in our consideration.” Lan Wangji approaches him at the other side of the table with an easy gait. “The decision is a critical one, something Gusu would rather not take lightly.”

Bullshit.

Adjusting his tie, he hardly spares the other a glance. He’s still miffed—and what of it?

“Hm.”

He feels Lan Wangji lessen the distance between them, aware of the way he steadily encroaches on his space. His senses remain alert as the other slinks up to him.

Jiang Cheng keeps his gaze fixed ahead, deeming his tie a hassle. How tedious.

A waft of cedarwood and bergamot hits his nose just then and his fingers fumble.

Lan Wangji foregoes propriety, eliminating space until their hips bump. Voice lowered, he utters, “Allow me.”

At this, he turns. Unbidden, his eyes latch onto the column of Lan Wangji’s throat, his own working slowly.

How poorly restraint fares in the wake of allure, he reflects.

Something clouds Lan Wangji’s gaze, pervasive while sinking its claws deep.

The other is watching him with a raptness—at least, that’s what he suspects if the fixation on his mouth is anything to go by.

That won’t do. No room for error here.

Tearing his eyes away, he erects a wall. With it follows a modicum of clarity.

“That’s kind of you, but I can manage.” To be safe, he takes a step back. Better.

With a listless tug, he leaves his tie be; it’s proved troublesome enough. Sighing, he pivots on his heel to leave but not before casting a furtive glance over his shoulder.

“Allow me to see you out, Lan-zongjian.”

For a moment, he thinks Lan Wangji might stay rooted just to be defiant. He wouldn’t put it past him at this point. Alas, he is proven wrong when the other pushes away from the edge of the table; trailing after him still with that torrid look in his eyes.

He holds his breath when Lan Wangji sidles up to reach around him, abandoning decorum altogether. A ghost of that weight against his back causes him to still. There is the faintest brush along his nape and his lashes flutter at the sensation.

Then the door is being swung open, heat disappearing just as rapidly. Hearing the quiet chuckle behind him, he blinks before urging his legs to work.

Impudent.

Even while ensuring a safe distance between them the entire way to the elevator, the ghost of his touch lingers.

_______

Jiang Cheng observes the beginnings of dusk from his office, face cast half in shadows.

His phone rings.

Seeing the name light up on his screen, he answers, “Hello?”

Huaisang.

“Ah, that’s good then.” Idly, he traces shapes along the window pane. “For next week?”

An affirmation.

“Good. And the information?” The sun has dipped behind adjacent buildings. “I see. No, everything you can find.”

He paces, phone cradled to his ear. “Mm. The entire board. Gather what you can on their shareholders as well. Each one, en.”

A question on the other end.

“If...persuasion doesn’t work, we find other means.”

The sun sets, areas of the room gradually enshrouded in darkness. He stops at his desk, documents splayed messily. His eyes pass over them coolly, a lilt to his tone.

“Mn. Until they’re bled dry.”

_______

He stares up at the building through the window.

“Jiang Cheng.”

Ah, good. At least it’s clicking finally.

“Mm.”

Wen Ning twists around to address him.

“I’ll drive around for a bit. Just call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

Fingers skimming over the envelope in hand, he shakes his head slowly. “No need. It‘ll be a while...lots to go over.”

Wen Ning’s brows furrow. “Ah, well in that case I’ll just park somewhere and you can let me know when you’re done.”

Humming, Jiang Wanyin shakes his head. “That’s alright, I’ll just get a cab back tonight, or something. You don’t need to stick around.”

“Well, I mean, it’s kind of my job so it’s really not a prob—“

“Wen Ning.” At that, the other’s mouth closes. His tone softens. “It’s fine. Really. Take an early night.”

Seeing Wen Ning rear up for another argument, he quickly adds, “If anything, I’ll have Lan Wangji’s driver drop me off along the way alright? It’ll put my mind at ease as well—not feeling rushed.”

He can tell Wen Ning is reluctant still, probably guilting himself over slacking at his job but that’s the furthest from the truth.

“Wen Ning....really. I need to close this deal. It would honestly make me feel better knowing you weren’t just waiting around for me.”

“But—“

He reaches over to flick the other across the forehead then, resisting a smile. “Seriously. You’re being so weird. Just shut up and take the night off, I know you’re probably desperate to get back to whatever dumb gaming shit you’ve got set up at home.”

A pause, then a sniff. “It’s not dumb.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, feeling his lips quirk. “Whatever. Just go, enjoy. I’ll be fine, really.” Ignoring Wen Ning’s long suffering sigh, he continues, “And it’s not like I don’t have your number in case something happens.”

After some consideration, Wen Ning relents. Finally. Stubborn as mule, that one.

Stepping out, he waits until the sleek vehicle is nothing but a blob in the distance.

His attention shifts back to the towering structure, envelope in his hands. It’s late, traffic along the streets gradually dispersing and street lights aplenty.

Adjusting the lapels of his suit, he gears up and makes his way inside.

______

There’s a lull in the building.

Jiang Cheng had caught Luo Qingyang on his way up. Seems she was prepared to call it a night, assuring him Lan Wangji was somewhere in his office still. Inundated with paperwork perhaps and refusing to leave until it was seen to.

He shakes his head. Sounds familiar enough. He’s pretty sure it’s a corporate motif by now—work to the bone and sleep when you’re dead. Sometimes he wonders how he manages to pass as a semi-functioning human being with his sleep patterns, or lack thereof. It’s not surprising Lan Wangji falls prey to the same issue.

The bell dings and he exits the lift.

As expected, the floor is vacant. It’s dark, most lights turned off save for the office at the very end of the hall. From here, he makes out a ray of light through the door left ajar.

He heads over, taking note of how empty the space really is, Gusu’s staff long retired for the evening.

Slipping inside, the door closes just as quietly after him.

Lan Wangji is behind his desk, surrounded by documents and a terse set to his jaw. His brows are pinched and his tie undone.

For the life of him, Jiang Cheng can’t look away.

He waits for the other to register his presence, catching the exact moment he does. Those eyes flit upwards, widening briefly before flickering where they were dull a moment prior.

It’s flattering; does wonders for his ego.

His eyes catch on the first few buttons of Lan Wangji’s collar, exposed and revealing a slit of skin.

Somehow, his hair is the one thing which remains undisturbed. How does he do that.

Unconsciously, his teeth dig into his lower lip.

Even from here, he feels the shift in the room; those eyes a hue darker.

“Jiang-zongcai.”

And oh, that voice is a couple decibels lower than he’s accustomed to. Rougher, as well—laden with something and Jiang Cheng grapples with clarity.

Slowly, his eyes trail over Lan Wangji, lingering on the jut of his collarbone.

How immodest.

He’s sure he knows better than this, is what he tells himself even while Lan Wangji rises from his chair. As he abandons whatever was on his desk to advance towards him, with restraint but that same visceral need roiling underneath.

It awakens something inside him.

“Lan-zongjian,” he manages, ignoring the heat in his ears. Coughing lightly, he quickly sidesteps Lan Wangji.

Sauntering to his desk, Jiang Cheng steals a peek where the other stands. The intent in his stance—those eyes narrowed at the sudden distance between them causes his pulse to skitter. He swallows.

“Working late?”

He is perhaps in need of a distraction.

“Mn.”

This time, he doesn’t flinch when he senses the other’s approach. Merely scans the documents laid across his desk, avoiding Lan Wangji’s eyes altogether.

“I would have thought you’d be taking this time to consider our proposal,” he jests. Well, half jests. He’s still a bit sore about the whole ordeal, irritated with Lan Wangji’s pertinacity. “No?”

Turning, his only thought is that Lan Wangji is getting better at sneaking up on him before he is being cornered against the desk. His lips part in surprise, struck by the fervor he finds.

Jiang Cheng slips out from underneath once more.

Perhaps when he said he needed a distractor he should have specified: not Lan Wangji’s brand of distraction.

“Has Gusu come to a decision yet?”

If it comes off strained, well, there are some liberties which must be granted he reasons.

“No.” And there’s no mistaking the brusqueness to his tone now. Fighting a smile, he overlooks the city and its lights.

“Hm. Lan-zongjian...you enjoy making things difficult, don’t you?”

He is aware of Lan Wangji’s presence, closing in and muddling his thoughts until he forgets himself. Then he feels a solid weight against his back and arms sneaking around his waist.

Without meaning to, his body goes lax, unwittingly melting into the contact. Ridiculous.

Lan Wangji hums, lips brushing over his nape. Jiang Cheng inhales sharply.

“Don’t.”

Clinging onto the last vestiges of propriety; he needs to, he tells himself...it’s pertinent.

Those arms tighten around his waist, roping him in so there’s only the sturdy press of his frame and hot breaths fanning his skin. His head lolls and Lan Wangji’s chest rumbles in response.

“Wait.” It’s a final bid, and the willpower he summons to tear himself away is monumental. Not that Lan Wangji needs to know this; no use adding fuel to the fire.

Detangling himself from Lan Wangji’s hold, he gives himself much needed space to breathe. There’s a scowl on the other’s face that would be laughable if only it didn’t belie something predatory underneath.

Jiang Wanyin should clear his head. Clearly, that should be his priority but Lan Wangji is wicked and clever with his fingers and oh—how did he end up here, a hand on his lower back and lips attached to his neck.

“Mm.” The cool press of glass against his shoulder makes him clutch Lan Wangji’s arms by instinct. “Ah...d-door.”

Futile. Lan Wangji pays no heed, tongue searing at his skin. His breath stutters.

Bastard.

“Stop,” he breathes, mind addled before it clears enough for him to push Lan Wangji away. “Wait.”

Groaning, Lan Wangji pulls off to glare at him. He looks peeved—genuinely peeved, and it shouldn’t amuse him as much as it does, but it absolutely does.

Anything that annoys Lan Wangji even the slightest is worth noting in his mind.

Rearranging his collar—because Lan Wangji has made a mess of it—he slides around the opposite end of the table to insert space between them.

Plucking an envelope from the inside of his suit, he drops it on his desk, ignoring the searing gaze.

“I would advise you to look over the contents later,” he remarks casually, disregarding the state of his voice.

Lan Wangji agrees, murmuring later before maneuvering around the table again—wily bastard, far too opportunistic for his liking.

Jiang Cheng allows him to get just within reach before his hand shoots out to press warningly against his chest.

“Door.” His gaze drifts in that direction. Luckily Lan Wangji already had his blinds drawn; he knows the floor is likely deserted but still. Precautions are precautions.

Lan Wangji looks like he can’t decide between pouncing on or throttling him, which is relatable enough. He tends to elicit similar responses in him after all.

“Door,” he repeats firmly.

With a long suffering sigh, Lan Wangji relents. But not before giving him the most sullen look he’s received in awhile. He tries not to smile. Gusu’s paragon forgoing his manners? The media would eat that up in a heartbeat.

If only they knew.

He watches the other stride across the room, worrying his lip unconsciously as he takes in the broad expanse of those shoulders.

There’s a click of a lock sliding into place before dark eyes find his. He won’t even attempt to make sense of what exists there.

“Lights,” he adds before Lan Wangji can take another step. Won’t do to have an incidental audience after all.

The next moment they’re enshrouded in darkness, with only the pale cast of the moon shedding light and Jiang Cheng reclines against Lan Wangji’s desk, watching said man practically prowl.

There is something scintillating in those eyes and he responds in kind. Arcing up the moment Lan Wangji is within reach, he grabs his face and brings those lips to his own, all sense of reserve abandoned.

Lan Wangji submits beautifully for him, lips parting to grant access and he takes full advantage. Fingers sinking deep in his hair, Jiang Cheng draws him closer. It curbs some of the hunger but not enough and he crushes their lips in response, teeth sinking into flesh. With a hiss, the other pulls back only to surge forward again.

Decorum’s gone out the window. For once, he can’t be bothered to care.

Lan Wangji’s hands are on his face then, oddly gentle in contrast to the things he’s doing with his mouth.

Shangdi.

Not one to be bested, Jiang Cheng draws him close enough to eliminate space as he licks into his mouth. Lan Wangji makes a noise in his throat which only incentivizes him.

Biting down, he tastes iron on his tongue; grinning, he laps it up before kissing him hard again. Tints of red smear Lan Wangji’s lips. His blood sings.

Feeling Wangji’s forehead pressed against his own grants momentary respite. He pants softly against his mouth, gaze flitting up to find pent up desire there.

It punches him right in the gut.

Threading his fingers through silken hair, he tugs—light but with just enough pressure for Lan Wangji’s pupils to dilate and oh, that’s lovely.

“Untamable,” he whispers, enthralled by the specks of red. “I should keep you on a leash.”

Impossibly, Lan Wangji’s eyes darken further and the yearning there is potent.

Jiang Cheng could thrive off it.

“Kiss me again,” he demands, hands slipping to the tie hung loosely around his neck.

And who is Lan Wangji—the righteous Lan-zongjian—to deny him anything.

Those lips are on him again, with a tang of blood but he only licks it from his mouth. Fingers tightening around the ends of his tie, Jiang Cheng ropes him in till a thigh slips between his own. Groaning, he ruts lightly against it, slacks becoming more restricting.

It is in this moment that a hint of cedarwood and bergamot fills his senses and he nearly goes feral with it, hands seeking purchase in those long strands once more while his nails scratch lightly at his scalp.

This elicits something like a moan and Jiang Cheng basks in it.

“That’s it,” he purrs, grinding against the hardness of his thigh. His fingers wind tight so he can yank the other’s head back, nose pressed to his throat. “Smell good...been driving me crazy all week.”

“Wanyin.”

His teeth scrape over Lan Wangji’s neck then and he feels him tense in his hold. He grins.

“Lan-zongjian,” he plants wet kisses along his throat. “What happened to professionalism?”

And then that mouth is plundering his, desperation rising to the surface. He wraps his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, granting himself this. He feels that tongue pry, seeking access and it’s a concession he allows for now.

Lan Wangji deserves some acknowledgment, after all.

The edge of the desk digs uncomfortably into his back the harder Lan Wangji pushes him against it. He’s nearly bent backwards and while he wishes he were still capable of the same things, his old bones unfortunately protest.

Lips moving over Lan Wangji’s own, he pleads with him to wait. On some level, he guessed it would fall on deaf ears but he needed to try. When the other makes no moves to relent, he shoves at his chest instead.

“Wangji.” And that, at least gets his attention; those pupils blown.

Incorrigible.

He looks like sin, if Jiang Cheng is being honest. Hair finally mussed, lips bitten and raw. I did that, he muses darkly.

Fingers curling around Lan Wangji’s nape, he leans in. Letting his teeth graze his lobe, he whispers, “I know I’ve told you to break my back before, but not like this.”

The way Lan Wangji groans at that. Before he knows it he’s being hiked up, arms supporting his thighs as they automatically wrap around that narrow waist.

God, the power there. He didn’t realize it was such a thing for him until it became A Thing.

Cupping Wangji’s face so he can seal their lips once more, he feels him carry them to the other side, his thighs still locked tight.

“Are you going to take me against the wall again?” he teases against his mouth.

All he gets is a hum before he’s dropped atop the desk, ass perched against the edge of it while Lan Wangji makes quick work of his tie. He peels it from his neck, tossing it aside before cradling his face; their teeth knock together from the force.

Jiang Cheng sighs, leg curling around the back of Wangji’s thigh to usher him close. They’re a mess—one he thinks he might choose to run head-first into each time. Here, there’s no room for regrets.

Just them.

Hands knotting in that mess of hair, he feels around for the loose thread of ribbon holding Lan Wangji’s updo together. Fingers wrapping around the end, he tugs. The rest of Wangji’s hair comes loose in a curtain along his back.

The ribbon slips from his hand to the ground and then his fingers are running wildly. It’s always soft to the touch—like silk, he thinks derisively.

Hooking his other leg around him, Jiang Cheng pulls him in until those hips are cradled between his thighs. Catching his lower lip with his teeth, he breaks their kiss slowly just to watch the flesh bounce. He draws back to rest his forehead against Wangji’s.

Lan Wangji’s palm rests lightly against his cheek, pupils dilated but something gentle slipping through in the midst of their haze.

Feeling his mouth tug at the corners, Jiang Cheng brushes his lips over the other’s, their noses bumping.

“Lan-zongjian,” he teases, eyes bright.

In a rare display of tenderness, Lan Wangji’s lips curl softly at the sides. He leans in to peck him on the mouth, stroking his face like he might break.

Sometimes Jiang Cheng is reluctant to admit how long he thinks about moments like these afterwards.

“I don’t think we’ve fucked on your desk before,” he whispers, coy. “Time to amend that?”

That quiet laugh is quickly swallowed up. His tongue brushes Wangji’s, whetting his appetite. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he drags him close only for his hands to fall to his belt. Deftly, his fingers work to unbuckle it, feeling the hitch of the other’s breath against his lips when it comes undone.

Tugging his zipper down, he slips a hand inside Lan Wangji’s briefs, fingers wrapping around his cock.

It elicits a hiss, Lan Wangji’s head falling against his shoulder and that mouth latching onto his neck. His hand curls into a fist, pumping him slow; Wangji jerks. Jiang Cheng stutters at the prick of teeth, lashes fluttering briefly before he tilts his head to grant the other free rein.

“Good?” It‘s rough against Lan Wangji’s ear.

A grunt, then a sharp sting when he begins sucking a bruise.

“No marks,” he groans, hand still working over the length of his cock. He tries to be careful, aware of how quickly the friction can shift to discomfort. His grip tightens warningly and Wangji quivers.

Oh.

He slides a hand around that back, playing idly with his hair before moving to caress his nape.

“You’re sensitive tonight,” he says, lips pressed to his temple.

Lan Wangji doesn’t respond, only expels soft puffs of air against his neck. Perhaps he does have a shot at being tamed—if the incentive is there.

Jiang Cheng guides his fingers towards the tip, thumb brushing over the slit and coming up wet. His breath catches, and he does it again. And again. Again.

Lan Wangji keens, biting down to muffle the noise.

Slowly retracting his hand, he waits for Wangji to look at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. When he does, he brings his thumb to his lips—smile devilish as his tongue swipes over it.

Lan Wangji’s eyes flash, a growl trapped in his throat as he smashes their lips together. Jiang Cheng arches into it. His mouth...it’s always nice.

This time, it’s Lan Wangji who is eager to undress him. He feels hands at his slacks, undoing the buckle before his shirt is tugged out. The sudden warmth at his abdomen causes the muscles to tighten and Wangji lets out a hum of approval.

Jiang Cheng allows it, aware of Lan Wangji’s proclivity for touch. It’s not like he’s all that opposed either.

When fingernails scratch lightly at his stomach he jolts. The smugness on Wangji’s face is telling. Shameless bastard.

Jiang Cheng decides to take matters into his own hands, impatient. Batting those fingers away, he undoes his belt. His briefs peek out and he notices the way Lan Wangji hones in on it.

He rolls his eyes, astounded by the other’s one-track mind.

Fingers dipping beneath the hem of Wangji’s briefs, he teases at it, emboldened. Tongue laving his neck, he tastes salt from his sweat and a trace of his cologne; it’s vile really, and Jiang Cheng enjoys it more than he should.

“Tell me you have stuff.”

Because the last time Jiang Cheng reached peak dumbassery and thought they could get away with just spit—with that thing between Lan Wangji’s legs, no less—he had trouble sitting for days.

Heavens, did that make for an excruciating board meeting the next morning. In every sense of the word.

Perhaps the most disgraceful bit of that story is how he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it the next day—week, even.

Not with the way Lan Wangji had fucked him that night, long and thorough enough to put him to bed.

Ah. Brought a new perspective to a good night’s sleep.

How could he complain then, when the health benefits and magical healing properties of Lan Wangji’s dick were made evident to him that evening. He’s willful, not unreasonable.

Before he can ask again, Lan Wangji is shuffling through his drawers, pelvis still flush with Jiang Cheng’s. Feeling the stiffness against his thigh, he rubs against it; the fumble of Wangji’s fingers only incentivizes him.

“Hurry.” Patience is not something he always has in spades, especially in times like these. But who can blame him. “Don’t make me wait this long to feel you.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes flit to his, a maelstrom within those depths. It’s invigorating.

That seems to do it though, because he’s procuring a small bottle the next minute.

Jiang Cheng finds the entire situation farcical. Don’t get him wrong, he’s appreciative because again—he would like to be able to stand tomorrow, but the fact that Lan Wangji actually has lube stored somewhere in his office...that is peak horny aspiration.

He can respect that.

“Let me.” Jiang Cheng snatches the bottle from Wangji’s hands and drops it beside him. Then he’s doubling down on the other’s pants, tugging it down just enough to pull his cock out.

Lan Wangji makes a sound, breath coming up short when Jiang Cheng draws him closer that way, refusing to let go. It’s exhilarating—a heady rush.

Uncapping the bottle, he squirts a generous amount into his palm before reaching for him. He wants him wet, real wet. It’s exquisite that way. He watches the bob of Wangji’s throat as he smears lube over his cock, the want in his eyes enough to make his breath hitch.

Oh, Jiang Cheng just knows he’s going to get fucked.

Just to see the way it drives Lan Wangji feral, he squeezes more into his hands and slicks him up again—deliberate and teasing.

He’s practically sodden with it now. Jiang Cheng spares a moment of consideration for Wangji’s poor slacks, now covered with dark spots. That, he thinks, may be a nightmare to clean. Ah, well. If anything, Wangji can send him the tab later.

With a final flick of his wrist, he lets go. Lan Wangji looks at him as if he can’t decide whether it’s torture or a relief. Jiang Cheng wipes his hands over Wangji’s slacks until they’re no longer sticky; might as well, they’re already dirty anyways. He receives a flat stare in return.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jiang Cheng sniffs, adjusting the lapels of his suit primly. “This is Balmain.”

An eye-roll. “Ridiculous.” But then he’s pulling Jiang Cheng by the belt loops, flipping him around before he is able to process this turn of events. Quite a favorable turn, if he must admit.

Jiang Cheng barely gets a word in before there’s a hand at his back, pushing him forward until his hips knock against the edge. He lets himself be manhandled, shoved face-first onto a cool surface. Documents are littered everywhere, his front pressed uncomfortably against decks of paper and heavens—they truly have become a trope.

“Impatient?” he taunts, hint of a rebuke there.

He receives no response. Expected.

The bastard truly is infuriating sometimes. He’s lucky he has been trained to please Jiang Cheng the way he likes, otherwise he would have dropped him eons ago.

Most likely.

His slacks are tugged just below his hips, briefs quickly following before his ass is bared. He swallows a groan when warm hands knead his flesh.

“You better not ruin this suit,” Jiang Cheng snipes. He needs a little bit of leverage here, he is feeling somewhat exposed after all.

When Lan Wangji molds himself to his back, he really does have to bite back a noise. It takes effort not to arch into him, especially when he feels his cheeks being spread.

Nie Huaisang may have been onto something...what if I am a slut.

Strong arms cage him, heavy breaths and sleek hair tickling his ear. Jiang Cheng jerks, hips knocking painfully against the desk.

“Like you did mine, you mean?” There’s something grating to his tone. Such a bastard.

Jiang Cheng would retort—or break his legs—but then there’s the faintest pressure against his rim, teasing him, and his thoughts scatter.

“Wangji.” He goes pliant, practically melting against the surface. His eyes flutter shut, fingers flexing helplessly. Those lips trail over his neck and he trembles.

“Sensitive tonight,” Lan Wangji murmurs, a wet kiss pressed to the back of his ear.

This asshole.

“Shut up and just—“ The words die in his throat when something cool and slippery is dribbled over his hole. How did that happen. He flinches at the bite, feeling it drip slowly down the inside of his thigh. So much for not ruining this suit.

Lan Wangji, you fiend.

Then it’s just more slick and has the other lost his fucking mind—who needs that much lube?

“Lan Wangji,” he growls, turning to glare over his shoulder. He doesn’t get the chance, forehead knocking against a stack of papers when nimble fingers suddenly rub at his entrance.

He’s doing it on purpose is Jiang Cheng’s last coherent thought before he feels that blunt head catch on his rim.

Jiang Cheng is going to murder him...after he fucks his brains out. He swears.

“Ah...” It’s awful, the way Lan Wangji is teasing him like this; tip pushing a little deeper each time but never enough for his satisfaction. “Wangji—oh.”

He’s too far in his head now, missing the way Wangji’s breaths grow heavier with each thrust. His shirt is lifted above his abdomen so he can watch the head of his cock sink further inside him with every roll of his hips. Jiang Cheng misses all of that, but it’s honestly whatever at this point because he’s hard, and Lan Wangji is the worst kind of bastard and—

“M-more.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes could set him aflame, if only he were able to tear them away from where their bodies are joined.

If Jiang Cheng had the brain cells left to process this, he’d definitely accuse him of being a pervert. As it is, he’s gripping onto the edge of the desk like his life depends on it.

Maybe it does.

This time, Wangji slips the entire head in—holding still until Jiang Cheng actually begins to squirm before quickly pulling back out.

Jiang Cheng groans, legs trembling from the strain.

“Lan Wangji, you bastard—“

“Wanyin.” It’s rasped against his ear, the other’s chest a furnace. What is he doing to me.

“Put it in...Wangji, put it in...inside me.”

A deep rumble, one he feels along his back and Jiang Cheng nearly tears his lip trying to muffle a whine.

Reprehensible. Jiang Wanyin, where has your dignity gone.

“Lan Wangji, I swear—“ His temper flares. As he said, patience is a virtue he does not always possess. “Either do something or I’ll find your brother and make him fu—ah!”

Jiang Cheng arches but there’s a hand at his nape, forcing his head down just as he slides in to the hilt.

“Wangji...oh, that’s deep.”

Above him is a groan, the other‘s weight stealing his breath as he encompasses him entirely. Not that he was having difficulties already, filled to the brim with that.

He hasn’t moved yet, and why hasn’t he moved. He’s wretched, that bastard.

Jiang Cheng writhes, itching for more. He gasps, feeling those fingers tighten around his neck as Lan Wangji crowds close. That hand moves then to wrap lightly around his throat, thumb stroking carefully over the lump there.

He hasn’t moved a bit—eerily still even while balls deep inside him, indifferent to Jiang Cheng’s silent pleas.

Loathsome...he’ll have time to put him in his place later.

Lan Wangji’s voice is deceptively calm, teeth grazing his lobe. “What was that about my brother?”

Who cares, just—

“Use me.”

A sharp intake.

“Nn—Wangji...ah, need it...hard.”

Perhaps the toil of the week really has gotten to him. Might explain this.

“Wanyin.”

He pushes back, ignoring the grip around his throat as he fucks himself on Lan Wangji’s cock. Circling his hips in desperation, he’s oblivious to the pained groans against his neck. All he knows is that he needs more—has needed more for some time now and if Lan Wangji won’t give it to him, he’ll take it.

His arms shake. “God, you’re big.”

Lan Wangji makes a sound like he’s dying, fingers closing tighter around his throat. Then he’s moving—finally. Short, controlled thrusts that turn Jiang Cheng boneless.

“Hah...yes.”

The slide is so easy. The way he’s just sopping wet, a steady trickle of lube down his thighs. He hears Wangji moving inside him as well, the sound making his ears burn. But the promise of this, and how much better it can get, overrides the shame.

If he could see himself now.

“Harder,” he moans, feeling Lan Wangji’s hair curtaining them as they move. “Please?”

“Wanyin.”

He may never tire of hearing his name from those lips.

Those thrusts quicken, a sharp slap of flesh that makes him claw at the table.

“Ah.”

“Are you ok?” Lan Wangji‘s breaths are ragged in his ear, hips working steadily.

Short on words, Jiang Cheng can only nod. He’s pinned to the desk, slacks pooled below his hips and Lan Wangji slowly eradicating all thought save for how perfectly he fits inside him.

Seeming to take that as silent assent—and that it certainly is, Wangji snaps his hips fiercely. Jiang Cheng stutters, feeling that hand slipping from his throat to grab ahold of his hips instead.

That seems to be all Lan Wangji needs, because then he’s fucking him—modesty forgone as he yanks Jiang Cheng back just as he drives hard into him.

Jiang Cheng keens.

And then Lan Wangji is holding nothing back, grip bruising while he keeps him in place and fucks in earnest.

“Wangji! Ah, that’s—“ Jiang Cheng is crushed beneath his weight. He can’t do anything but take it, eyes lidded as the other starts building a rhythm.

He feels so wet, now thankful for Lan Wangji’s foresight. Supporting himself on wobbly arms, he pushes back to meet Wangji’s thrusts. And oh, that’s it.

“Is that your best?” Jiang Cheng barely gets it out in one breath, biting his lip through the pain.

This is familiar: riling Lan Wangji. It restores some semblance of normality; helps him feel more grounded, within his element in the midst of this odd vulnerability.

It seems to do the trick. Lan Wangji seems to stiffen behind him, a stutter to his hips before he’s slowing...

Only to dig his nails into his flesh before he’s doubling down and rutting into him like he has something to prove. Jiang Cheng’s fingers scrabble for purchase.

“Mn—!” The other doesn’t let up, suddenly ramming in with more force.

The slap of flesh, the obscene squelch of his cock—it’s vulgar. He revels in it.

“W-wait, oh....wait, I...you’re too deep.” Jiang Cheng flexes around him, slowly abandoning reason as Wangji pounds him with vigor.

He ruins him—hips meeting flesh roughly, the slap of skin deafening in the room. He’s groaning against Jiang Cheng’s ear now; rough, broken sounds which only make his blood stir. With abandon, he gyrates his hips in time with Lan Wangji’s thrusts. The way his cock presses against the desk is nearly painful, but maybe that’s half the fun.

Lan Wangji cages him, shirt sticking to his chest as his hipbones dig sharply into his ass. Jiang Cheng should be ashamed...he’s enjoying this too much, far too much. Perhaps the regret will sink in tomorrow, but for now he arcs his spine so he can press closer; feel the erratic beat of Lan Wangji’s heart along his back. He needs it.

“Wanyin.” It’s nearly primitive. “Wanyin...you—you’re good.”

Jiang Cheng preens, even in the midst of having the sense fucked out of him. The things his ego will withstand.

He tightens in response, suddenly wanting Lan Wangji right where he is for as long he deems necessary. Greedy, he doesn’t want to let go—he wants him to burrow deep inside and carve a space, fucking him from one orgasm into the next.

Jiang Cheng’s legs buckle when Lan Wangji rocks deep and rubs against that spot inside him. His eyes flash, body quivering from the pressure.

“Oh...yes, you found it...there.”

Shameless.

His eyes slip shut again, a strangled sound teased from his throat. Lan Wangji seems to grow emboldened then, arms slipping around his waist before he’s being hauled roughly against his chest.

Jiang Cheng can hardly think straight.

He’s pliant in Lan Wangji’s arms, head falling against his shoulder as the other maneuvers them into a standing position. That cock is still buried inside him, his muscles contracting now that he’s given a chance to catch his breath.

In all honesty, Jiang Cheng is not quite so sure anymore he’ll make it through the night. Not if Lan Wangji keeps riding him like that.

“Ok?” Lan Wangji’s nose grazes his flushed skin.

Jiang Cheng swallows, chest heaving while he tries to gather his thoughts. Eyes still closed, he molds himself to the lines of Wangji’s chest; shirt sticking to his back. After some time, he nods. He’s parched, he realizes.

Lan Wangji’s arms coil tighter around his waist, mouth hot on his skin. It’s almost too much and Jiang Cheng tenses, unwittingly squeezing harder on his cock. Wangji inhales sharply, breaths harsh against his neck as he grinds into him out of reflex.

“Mmn...” Jiang Cheng’s hand darts behind him to clutch the sides of Lan Wangji’s slacks. “So full.”

Clearly his brain-to-mouth filter fails him. Utterly useless.

“Wanyin—mm.”

Slowly, Lan Wangji resumes a pace. Pushing in till his hips cradle his ass then holding still, only to do it all over again.

Not this.

Jiang Cheng is actually going to expire.

His fingers twist around Lan Wangji’s pants. “You’re teasing me...teasing me so bad.”

“Mm.” He’s nosing at Jiang Cheng’s neck now, sliding a little deeper. All the while, those arms haven’t left his waist; he’s almost certain he’d be a mess of limbs on the floor otherwise.

It’s a good thing the weekend is tomorrow. Perhaps he doesn’t need to be able to stand after all.

Jiang Cheng sinks on him, humming at the joining of their bodies. Wangji’s slacks crease in his hand, head clearing enough for him to notice the slickness around his rim and cheeks. Revolting. He fucks down again just to hear how wet it is.

A groan, then a dull pain accompanying the stretch as Lan Wangji‘s hipbones cut deeper into his ass. He’s gotten so much better at this.

A vast improvement from the first few times, each of them trying to figure the other out. Heavens, they were a disaster.

But now—

Jiang Cheng‘s legs quiver, held up only through Lan Wangji’s will.

Well. Now Lan Wangji has learned to read him with a devoutness, plucking at him like his beloved instrument and making his body sing.

If that’s not character development, he’s not interested in whatever else might be.

“Wangji,” he breathes.

How much more can he take?

He doesn’t notice the way Wangji watches him—eyes desirous as Jiang Cheng writhes on him, face contorted in pleasure.

Lan Wangji makes a deep, satisfied noise before seizing his chin and guiding their mouths until they’re slotted.

Jiang Cheng moans, taken by surprise but conceding without resistance. His hand threads through Lan Wangji’s hair. He twists around to deepen the kiss. Teeth dig into his flesh; Jiang Cheng returns the favor, nipping until he draws a hiss.

Appeased, he pulls back, watching Lan Wangji through hooded eyes. There’s a thin strand of saliva between them and he licks at it before Wangji is chasing his lips again. Warm, slick—vaguely lewd as he traces the roof of his mouth.

All the while, Lan Wangji hasn’t ceased the shallow thrust of his hips. The way he exhibits such restraint sometimes, only to promptly make him forget his own name.

Such a dichotomy—Gusu’s corporate beau is full of surprises.

Distantly, he wonders what might happen if Lan Qiren ever found out just what his precious nephew gets up to in his spare time. The weekends he spends buried inside the competition.

Severe qi disturbance, he suspects.

What was it...friends close, enemies closer?

That draws a breathy laugh from him, one Lan Wangji quickly smothers. A measured thrust and Jiang Cheng forgets his thought. Clever, he’ll give him that.

Feeling that hand around his face tighten, Jiang Cheng responds with a slow undulation. Incentive: crucial.

Lan Wangji’s hips stutter.

Turning his head, Jiang Cheng lays a kiss to his jaw. “Is this all you’ve got tonight?” At the menacing glance, he adds, “If so, let me go home. At least then I can—“

The rest dies in his throat when Lan Wangji pulls out only to plough back in with ease, literally fucking the breath out of him.

A wet slap of skin follows and there’s a hand clasping his chin while Lan Wangji drives in hard enough to make him cry out. Then he’s doing it again, and again and again. Without stopping. Bastard won’t even give him a moment to catch his breath in between, just ruts into him like he wants it to hurt.

It’s exactly what he needs.

“That...t-that’s rough.”

It seems to have the opposite effect. Those thrusts sharpen, a carnal edge there. He feels his legs give in but Wangji catches him by the waist, propping him back up so he can continue driving in with abandon. Jiang Cheng’s eyes snap shut, fingers entangled in Wangji’s hair.

He nearly tears a strand out when Wangji shifts his hips and screws in at that angle. “Ah—there.”

Lan Wangji complies. He’s spent time reading him, studying his responses and it’s paid off. Well, if Jiang Cheng’s pleas for more are any indication at least.

A brush against that spot inside him is enough to make him squirm, unsure if it’s too much or just the start of enough.

Jiang Cheng’s gaze drifts to the ceiling, his mind scattered. “H-how are you that deep?”

A growl, followed by a quick succession of thrusts. Jiang Cheng’s mouth falls open. He’s ruined me.

Hand slipping from Wangji’s hair, he clutches his arms instead. Even the graze of lips is too stimulating and he flinches.

That seems to lure Wangji temporarily from his haze, his hips slowing while some of the lust clears from his eyes. “Wanyin...is—is it too much?”

He means to answer. Really, he does, but when he opens his mouth to do so nothing comes out. Useless. Absolutely useless. So he shakes his head instead, knowing he’d truly end Lan Wangji if he even considered stopping now.

Lips pressed to his sweaty brow. “Are you sure?” Followed with an experimental thrust.

Oh, he’s sure.

Jiang Cheng rolls his hips back to show him just how much, forgoing words altogether. Then he lifts himself only to drop back down till there’s the smack of skin. He stutters at the shock of pleasure and pain.

Behind him, Lan Wangji stares transfixed as he fucks himself on his cock; the way his rim flutters and stretches around him as he takes him in. He swallows hard.

“Wanyin,” his voice is raw, laced with hunger. “Yes.”

Then his hands find those hips again and he’s fucking in with something untamed to his movements.

Jiang Cheng growls in his throat, back coated with a sheen of sweat. He’s trying to fuck the sense out of me.

Even with lips attached to his neck and his nerves on overdrive, he lets Lan Wangji do as he wishes. Perhaps he relishes it, everything from pain to rapture.

“Wangji,” he pleads. “Ah...e-easy, I can’t take it all.”

That’s a lie.

But he enjoys the effect it has on Wangji.

“Wanyin—“ Before he’s taking him apart like it’s his sole purpose.

And Jiang Cheng is here to reap the benefits. His mind goes blank, trying to catch on while Lan Wangji burrows deeper and fucks into him relentlessly.

He’s going to tear me from the inside-out, he thinks hysterically.

“That’s—oh, I can’t, no, no...” Jiang Cheng whines then. “That’s too big, Wangji—mmn.”

He’s shaking his head, dazed. His eyes are closed but even if they weren’t he doubts they’d be of much use.

“Wangji!” Jiang Cheng claws at his arms at the wave of pleasure, writhing helplessly.

“Wanyin,” he murmurs, voice low. The way it makes Jiang Cheng contract around him, those thrusts faltering.

Yes.

“Wanyin...Wanyin—“ and he’s rolling his hips in tight circles, driving Jiang Cheng absolutely mad. The bastard.

Jiang Cheng senses another kiss at his temple. Maybe...it’s all a bit of a haze at this point. He just knows he needs Wangji to keep moving and yes, like that.

“I...Wangji, you can’t stop—n-no, you can’t stop ok?”

Jiang Cheng is unaware of the words coming out of his mouth, preoccupied with the wet slide of that cock and how obscene it sounds.

He’s going to be sore tomorrow.

Just one more thing to look forward to.

Then Lan Wangji is whispering his name with reverence, over and over again, all while burying himself inside his body like he’s looking for a way to stay.

Jiang Cheng is so delirious, he just might let him.

Then Lan Wangji’s mouth is on his neck and this time he’s sucking hard enough to break skin. Jiang Cheng cries out, jerking in Wangji’s hold; the other doesn’t let go, sinking his teeth deeper.

Fucker...I said no marks.

Lan Wangji is just asking to be brought to his knees.

There’s an insult on the tip of his tongue. Before he can give voice to it, his mind vaguely registers a chime somewhere in the distance, steadily growing clearer.

It takes a moment for him to realize it’s his phone.

Lan Wangji’s hips have slowed to an undulation and Jiang Cheng nearly snaps at him to hurry again. He feels the gentle stroke of a thumb along his hip, before there’s a whisper at his neck, “Answer it.”

If Jiang Cheng could, he’d shove his entire fist up his ass. And not the sexy way.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, trying to grind back. Those hands inhibit him, and he groans in frustration. “Ignore it.”

Lips tease warm skin, before a hand slips inside his pocket.

“Lan Wangji—“

A swipe of the screen and it’s brought to his ear. Jiang Cheng swallows a curse, breath stilling in his chest.

Lan Wangji’s lips brush below his ear, cradling the phone for him.

“Wanyin,” he purrs just before rolling his hips again and leaving Jiang Cheng to clutch desperately at his phone. “Speak.”

Oh, Jiang Cheng is going to annihilate him.

Hand covering the loudspeaker, he twists around with murder in his eyes.

You no-good bastard, just watch me wring your neck!

“You basta—oh.” Jiang Cheng’s spine arches, legs going weak as Lan Wangji pushes steadily into him, stretching him out.

That solid chest remains glued to his back, allowing him to sink in while Jiang Cheng’s gaze turns hooded.

Hands flexing over his waist, Wangji slowly overwhelms him. Ragged breaths tickle his ear. “Answer it.”

Fuck.

Lan Wangji stills once more, and Jiang Cheng nearly shatters his cell.

“Wanyin.”

He’s not getting out of this alive. That, he vows.

Inhaling shakily, he brings the device to his ear. His fingers tremble but he schools his voice as best he can.

“Hello.”

Lan Wangji hums, pleased, before punctuating it with a thrust. Jiang Cheng’s breath catches, and he covers the speaker just in time.

“—Cheng! Finally!”

After Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian is next on his hitlist.

“What do you want?” His voice wavers at the end, aching when Wangji does something right. Jiang Cheng just might tear a hole through his lip before the end of the night.

“I swear I was calling your name for the past minute, what the hell are you even up to?”

A nip at his neck, then the air being ripped from his lungs. He swears he can hear Wangji laughing in his head. Bastard.

Gritting his teeth, he repeats, “What do you want?”

Frankly, it’s impressive how level his voice is. Even through the other’s ministrations; this is no small feat.

Lan Wangji squeezes his hips then, grip bruising. What on earth have I gotten myself into.

“Ah, you grouch! Fine! What are you up to tomorrow?”

Jiang Cheng tenses when Lan Wangji suddenly brushes his prostate, seeming to fixate on the spot at his reaction.

I don’t know. A bed—behind Wangji, in him....riding him into the middle of next week. Fuck if I know.

“B-busy,” he exhales, just managing to keep the whimper from his voice.

Lan Wangji, you depraved bastard.

“...Are you ok? Why do you sound weird?”

Lan Wangji does expel a laugh this time, nosing at damp skin as he continues undulating his hips.

“It’s—“ Jiang Cheng chokes, eyes screwing shut. “Mm, it’s nothing. Don’t...don’t worry about it.”

Rumbling softly, Lan Wangji abruptly pulls out and Jiang Cheng bites his lip to muffle a cry. He’s ready to spit vitriol, but before he can he’s being manhandled—hands at his waist as he is shoved forward and bent over that desk once more. Jiang Cheng nearly keens when Wangji slides all the way back in, balls pressed against his ass. He goes limp, nearly dropping the phone as his head thuds against the surface.

“Oh, fuck.” It’s whispered shakily beneath his breath.

Lan Wangji rests his forehead against Jiang Cheng’s nape, seemingly just as affected. “Wanyin.”

“Jiang Cheng! Are you alright? Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

He’s moving again, riding him, and he really hopes Wei Wuxian can’t hear the way Wangji’s hips slap noisily through the phone.

He’d never let him live it down.

A particularly rough thrust and, “Ah.”

“...Wait.”

Oh, he can’t believe he’s getting wrecked like this.

Jiang Cheng is barely keeping it together, free hand tugging at his own hair in frustration. Lan Wangji refuses to let up, hitching him higher up the desk before he begins nailing him into it. The phone nearly slips from his fingers again.

“Wait, oh—ew, ew! Please don’t tell me you’re jerking off....ew! Jiang Cheng, what the hell!”

He barely hears him, cheek flush with piles of paper as he flexes around Lan Wangji’s cock, desperate to keep him there. The other lets out a feral sound above him.

“Oh, gross! Why would you answer the phone while—“

A well-timed thrust and Jiang Cheng’s voice cracks, clutching the phone with shaky fingers. “Wei Wuxian! Just—“

Lan Wangji decides then is the optimal moment to give it to him, dragging him by the hips to rut mindlessly into him. He’s merciless, intent on actually dislodging his back or something.

His legs threaten to give out, thrusts bordering discomfort now.

“Wangji,” it escapes him before he can stop it. Hopefully Wei Wuxian thinks nothing amiss. If he does, Jiang Cheng honestly can’t put the brain cells together right now to mind.

He thinks he might hear Wei Wuxian screeching over the receiver.

“Shut up, I don’t care—ah, whatever, I...” Biting his fist around a choked cry. “Just—fuck, I’ll call you back, b-bye.”

Without waiting for a response, Jiang Cheng is ending the call and literally tossing his phone aside. It hits the ground with a clatter, promptly drowned out by a moan when Wangji angles his hips just so and begins propelling them forward.

“A-asshole,” he breathes, clawing wherever he can reach. He’s driving him out of his mind. “I’m going to kill you, ngh.”

“Mn—later.” The nip at his jaw might almost constitute as an apology if only he didn’t know better. Alas, he does. Thus he can surmise how not sorry he is, just on the basis of probability.

Jiang Cheng can only lie there, knuckles white as Lan Wangji seeks his pleasure inside his body. His cock pulls tight against his abdomen, stomach pooling with heat.

Rucking his shirt further up his back, Lan Wangji splays a hand over Jiang Cheng’s skin, flushed and sweaty to the touch. Snapping his hips, he watches the lewd stretch of that hole around him. He groans, head lolling briefly to the side before he slows to a grind, flush with Jiang Cheng’s ass.

“Wait...” Jiang Cheng is feverish, mewling softly, “Oh, you’re stretching me like that.”

This elicits a guttural sound from Lan Wangji, whatever control he maintained beginning to fray at the edges.

Good.

Jiang Cheng rolls his hips, bodies entwined as he takes what he needs from him.

He would be appalled by the state he’s in right now; how he’s just short of gagging for it. Shameful.

I don’t even care anymore...Huaisang was right...I’m definitely a slut.

“Wangji—please.”

He’s rubbing relentlessly against that sensitive bundle of nerves and it steals his breath. Then he’s changing the angle again, teasing and making him tremble all over.

Choking on his words, he grips hard onto the edge of the desk instead. Lan Wangji picks up the pace—finally, before seeming to find what he wants and fucking in with surprising precision.

Jiang Cheng melts, eyes nearly rolling back. He tries to catch his breath as Wangji starts ramming into him, finding his prostate.

“Ah, Wangji...Wangji, you’re killing me.”

Lan Wangji‘s eyes burn, in awe of how responsive the other is. He crowds close, pinning him underneath, needing to feel him while he puts everything he has into fucking him into his desk.

Jiang Cheng’s knees buckle, torso flattened entirely beneath Lan Wangji’s weight. His mouth runs wild then, spewing filth as he urges Wangji to do it harder. He knows exactly what he’s doing by goading him. Pleas for deeper, to make him hurt—how he doesn’t want to feel his legs tomorrow.

If the noises Lan Wangji makes are any indication, he thinks the other might like it too.

The hand moves from the dip of his back to either of his sides. Jiang Cheng feels Wangji pry his fingers from the desk and he nearly goes down from the ferocity of his thrusts. Before he can, though, he’s being held up by Wangji’s arms; cock still nestled inside while he adjusts their positioning so they both lay across the desk.

At this point, Jiang Cheng can hardly tell left from right but he faintly registers Wangji guiding his hands in front of them; pinning his wrists down only to entwine their fingers.

Jiang Cheng unwittingly clings to him like he’s the only thing grounding him at this moment. In some ways, he is.

With staggered breaths, Lan Wangji begins fucking him the way he needs. It’s excruciating, the overlap of pleasure-pain.

Face rubbing mindlessly against the desk, Jiang Cheng surrenders to it; grants Lan Wangji freedom to do what he will with him, a pliant mass of limbs.

A groan, and then weight pressing against his back as sleek hair tickles his face. “Wanyin...is it good?”

What a ridiculous question.

As if Lan Wangji isn’t currently reducing him to near tears while taking him apart. As though Jiang Cheng isn’t grinding back just as desperately, aching for him and lacing their fingers tightly like he can’t afford to let go.

So again—a ridiculous question.

But he knows it’s not what Lan Wangji really wants to hear. Perhaps Jiang Cheng is distracted enough to indulge him this time.

Another nudge and he cries out. “I-it’s good, yes...always...w-with you.””

Lan Wangji’s rhythm falters. A sharp intake against his ear, and then lips are seeking his own. Jiang Cheng succumbs—of course he does. He’s far past fucked out by now to put up much of a fight. The pressure continues to build, the fire stoked in his belly. He rubs his thighs together restlessly, torn between needing friction and being saddled with too much.

He just lets the other take for now. The way he’s shoved a little farther up the desk each time makes him pant against Wangji’s mouth.

“Wangji,” he looks at the other through his lashes. “I’m close...you...you’re really going to make me come like this.”

With a heady groan, Lan Wangji kisses him. Their tongues twine and it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, neither one of them fully coherent at this point. Jiang Cheng takes it—keeps taking Wangji even with the fear he might not get up tomorrow.

Sacrifices must be made occasionally.

A vicious thrust followed by the most torturous drag of hips and Jiang Cheng is arching up with a cry. He feels Lan Wangji wind their fingers more intimately while he nearly falls apart beneath him.

“Wanyin,” his voice is worn around the edges, a hint of a growl slipping through. “Is this—is it the best spot?” And he demonstrates with a messy cut of his hips, the slide still so effortless despite a twinge of pain.

Jiang Cheng nods, breath shortening with every thrust.

“Mm, yes...there...that’s—stay there.” Even with kisses peppered along his jaw, the only thing he can do is clutch onto Lan Wangji for dear life. Fucked to exhaustion, he thinks.

How is he doing that...making me a slut for this dick...I refuse to accept I’m that impressionable.

Nie Huaisang just might keel over at that one.

Jiang Cheng keens, feral with want. Shit, he...he’s really holding nothing back.

It’s like Lan Wangji has memorized exactly where Jiang Cheng needs him most; committing himself to uncovering what drives him wild and applying that knowledge to the highest degree. As though he truly is looking to ruin him for anyone else—resolved to see him in tears before the night ends.

“Mnn—ah, Wangji...fuck...I can’t,” he trails off on a moan, stiffening at the onslaught of pain; at the way he’s being used. Devastated like he he craves.

Lan Wangji truly is a fastidious learner.

“Wangji...Wangji...yes,” Jiang Cheng snarls, tensing with the way Lan Wangji is nailing him like that. He tries lifting up to feel him deeper, but Wangji seems to sense that and knocks him back down with his hips, keeping their lower bodies pinned to the desk.

Jiang Cheng cries, thrashing.

Lan Wangji nuzzles his neck, chest heaving. His voice sounds worse for wear. “Relax.”

If he had any sense left, Jiang Cheng would cuff him. He’ll remember that the next time he’s at his wits’ end.

Instead, he buries his face between his arms, random sheets sticking to his forehead. Lan Wangji just keeps going, the clap of skin profane in the space between them.

Whining, Jiang Cheng tries to brave it. He can hardly move, not that he’d get far even if he tried; not with the way Lan Wangji ruts into him in a way which barely allows room to think let alone budge.

“Wangji...shit, I’m—“ he chokes when Wangji quickens the pace, moving with more force. “Nn...that’s...ah, rough.”

A nip at his throat, tongue tracing skin.

“Oh, fuck...wait, mnn...Wangji, n-no.” Jiang Cheng’s muscles contract, body lurching at the new angle. His eyes flutter open, room spinning even as he’s laid flat. “That...ah, that’s worse.”

That only seems to propel Wangji, the pain intensifying while their fingers tangle further. Honestly, Jiang Cheng couldn’t have asked for a more productive way to end the week.

Literally having the stress fucked out of him. Now Huaisang has no grounds for complaints, claiming he never pays attention.

“Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng is convinced he’ll have bruises below come tomorrow, imprints from the jut of Lan Wangji’s hipbones. His body likely to be a war zone—joints aching too, like the decrepit fool he is.

He’ll take it if it means Lan Wangji continues doing what he’s doing, manipulating his body as it ought to be manipulated.

Because Lan Wangji is making him drip. The pressure in his groin deepens and he’s just there—on the verge of plummeting to his little death.

He writhes at a particularly harsh nudge to his prostate. “Wangji, fuck...I’m going to come.”

“Mm.” Another rumble along his back, breaths labored against his neck. “Should I do it harder?”

You bastard...how can you possibly go harder.

He doubts Lan Wangji is capable of doing any more damage. But then Wangji is tilting his hips, pulling back and—

Oh, he was wrong. Jiang Cheng sinks his teeth in to keep from shouting. Wangji’s desk shakes from the brunt of his thrusts. Jiang Cheng’s eyes flutter shut before rolling backwards. He’s unable to do anything but buckle down while pleading for mercy.

“Nng—Wangji...t-too much, oh that’s too much,” he whimpers, squirming for relief but then Lan Wangji is scooting up to keep them locked and Jiang Cheng sobs.

“Wanyin,” a breathless pant against his skin, “That’s..ah, good. Is it good?” He bites down on his nape, smothering a growl.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have the words to express how dreadful and divine this is at the same time. Perhaps Lan Wangji is clever enough to catch on.

Beads of sweat trickle down his temple, his cheek forced against stacks of paper while Lan Wangji exhausts him entirely. The heat is sweltering, making his blood roar. He’s being fucked out of his mind. Jiang Cheng thinks he’s far exceeded the threshold for comfort, rim fluttering wildly around Wangji‘s cock and drawing hoarse groans. It’s an all-encompassing ache and flares of pain accompanying slaps of flesh.

“You...how...” Shivers run down his spine, mouth slackened while he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re insane...no one does it like that.”

He’s wet at the tip and the fire beneath his skin—between his legs, threatens to consume him. He pushes back weakly, delirious with need.

“Oh, you’re big.” Jiang Cheng‘s voice shakes, clasping those fingers tightly. He needs something to hold onto—anything. “A-ah...tearing me up.”

Lan Wangji lets out the most tortured sound and then there’s only a steady mantra of his name. Jiang Cheng is too overwrought to notice.

“Wangji, oh...yes, that’s perfect...a-are you going to make me come now?”

He receives another thrust in lieu of an answer.

Jiang Cheng stiffens, his cock throbbing and he knows he’s teetering the edge. He pants softly, jaw slack and disoriented. Hair clings wetly to his face and his only remaining thought is that Lan Wangji better not let him leave the bed this weekend—prostrating himself before finding his place between his legs again, fucking him late into the night only to start all over again in the morning. His legs quake at the promise of it.

Lan Wangji ruts into him like a brute, hips striking hard against his flesh and eliciting the lewdest sounds from his lips.

Oh, this fucker...absolute fucker...ruining me for anyone else’s cock.

Heinous. Distracting him like this so he forgets all about that damn deal. Such a crafty ploy.

Jiang Cheng wishes he had enough face left to care. But he doesn’t. Not like this. No, right now Lan Wangji could disassemble him and drag him through the pits of hell and Jiang Cheng would follow willingly.

Driving in with a sense of urgency, Lan Wangji hits that spot head-on and Jiang Cheng’s back bows. Oh, that’s it...leave nothing of me.

His voice dissolves into a whine. The bite to his nape barely penetrates his daze, too overwhelmed to think beyond it. “Like that...yes...make me come—Wangji.”

Jiang Cheng tries to lift up on his arms only to be thwarted by that sturdy chest, the other emitting a sound of approval before he’s conceding and giving him what he needs.

Feeling Lan Wangji slide in to the hilt, Jiang Cheng cries out. With that steady weight above him, he lets go. Presses as far back as he can before succumbing to the plough of those hips—the way he’s such a glutton for that cock, loath to let go. It’s all too much. Jiang Cheng allows himself to fall, and fall he does.

Lan Wangji seems to forgo restraint with him, threading their fingers even more closely before he’s pulling nearly all the way out—only to drive back and grind deep. Reduces him to a mess within seconds, riding him like he has no intentions of stopping.

As if Jiang Cheng would allow him to.

His stomach erupts with heat, voice cracking. “Oh, Wangji, yes...take it.”

And then Lan Wangji is fucking with abandon, something primal underlying it. Jiang Cheng’s neck strains from the tension, bearing the brunt of it and making a fool of himself he’s sure; what, with the way his mouth takes on a life of its own, spitting the filthiest praises just to add fuel.

It seems to work because Wangji is getting just as riled, doing everything within his power to ensure Jiang Cheng remembers nothing but him. It may be a success: will confirm later.

A broken moan then, “Wanyin.”

And that—

That seems to do Jiang Cheng in.

Because then Lan Wangji is angling his hips to screw right where he’s sensitive and it’s like the world tilts.

Jiang Cheng lets out a cry when Wangji bottoms out, stiffening before his cock jerks and he’s coming all over those pristine documents, dirtying the surface of that desk.

Everything goes white for a second then pitch black, his vision narrowing down to nothing.

Shuddering hard through the onslaught of pleasure, he nearly dislodges himself from Wangji’s cock; only for the other to press down and slide back in, groaning throatily at the vice-like grip.

Garbled noises fall from his mouth, thighs trembling from the exertion and frame wracked with shivers. He just about collapses but Lan Wangji is there, breathing harshly against his neck and holding him through it as Jiang Cheng clenches rhythmically around him. His presence is something he relies on, perhaps, as kisses are scattered across his nape. Wangji is murmuring softly into his ear then, hips stilled, but Jiang Cheng registers none of it.

“Wanyin.”

He‘s still coming around him; weak spurts of his cock, and it’s lewd but he’s in such a heady space right now, it escapes his consideration entirely. Lan Wangji seems to be the only thing tethering him to reality.

Jiang Cheng attempts to make a sound, mouth parting, but the only thing that comes out is a mewl. Useless.

Flush with a warm chest, Jiang Cheng rides out the aftershocks. He’s trembling, burning all over and body slick with perspiration. When Wangji begins trailing his lips over his neck, he jolts. Sensitive.

Then ah, Wanyin when Jiang Cheng inadvertently tightens around him.

Jiang Cheng tries to relax through waves of pleasure. He vaguely detects a stickiness coating his lower abdomen, where it was exposed. Profane.

Fortunately for him, he still can’t think straight enough to mind, blissed out and somewhere in his own head. Jiang Cheng isn’t so sure he wants to come down.

It’s nicer up here.

But there is Lan Wangji to think about. And his performance did meet, if not exceed, expectations. Perhaps he deserves a treat too?

In a bit.

Once the tremors have subsided and he can remember where he is.

With a sated sigh, Jiang Cheng lets his head fall against the desk, cheek grazing the surface. There’s a current in his veins and his body tingles pleasantly all over. Frankly, he wouldn’t mind basking in this a while longer; within that floaty space inside his head, welcoming the lethargy that’s gripped him. Maybe he could do with a nap as well.

Lan Wangji cages him, the heat seeping through their clothes. There’s a brief squeeze of his fingers as the other noses lightly at his jaw, breaths hot against his skin. Jiang Cheng rolls his hips out of reflex, the stimulation making him whine even while his spine arches like a feline. Wangji exhales sharply but he hasn’t moved, taking pity on Jiang Cheng’s poor soul.

That alone merits a reward.

Lan Wangji is nuzzling his ear then, stealing kisses in between. His voice is taut even as he whispers, “Good?”

Jiang Cheng grunts.

Bastard...fishing for compliments now.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes are still shut as he gradually begins to regain his breath. There is the occasional tremor, along with his pulse pounding in his ears—but he’s slowly starting to come down, the fog in his mind clearing. He splays wider across the desk, tension easing from his limbs.

A breathy laugh, tickling his lobe. Jiang Cheng mewls softly, shying away from the sensation.

“Alright?” With a lingering kiss to his jaw, Lan Wangji slowly loosens the grip around his fingers.

Jiang Cheng’s lids flutter open and he blinks through his punch-drunk state. Bright spots color his vision as he tries to reorient himself through the ebbing pleasure. The high is addictive enough to want to stay there, riding it all night. Alas, it doesn’t work like that.

Though, perhaps he can persuade Lan Wangji to wring another orgasm or two from him before the night is over.

It’s been a long week, after all.

For now, he supposes he should attend to Wangji. He has been surprisingly charitable thus far.

Enduring the last of the aftershocks, Jiang Cheng releases a sigh of satisfaction. It’s intoxicating. He angles his face to peer back at Lan Wangji through a half-lidded gaze. Jiang Cheng wonders if he looks as fucked out as he feels.

Probable, if the ravenous glint in Lan Wangji’s eyes tells him anything. He allows himself to be coaxed, neck craning to meet those lips. A pleased rumble before Wangji is stealing his breath once more. Tapped out, Jiang Cheng can only yield to it, mouth pliable.

Lan Wangji exhales softly against his mouth. “Wanyin. Are you ok?”

Jiang Cheng unwinds their fingers so he can reach back to wind them in Wangji’s hair. Dark strands spill out over the desk, cloaking them on either side. He drags Wangji down to surge into the kiss, oddly euphoric in the aftermath.

“Mmm,” he purrs, tongue loose. “How are you not illegal yet?”

If Jiang Cheng weren’t currently indisposed, he would bury himself beneath the soil. Without question. Utterly useless...what kind of nonsense...

Lan Wangji huffs, head shaking in disbelief. Jiang Cheng is too out of it to notice the flush in Wangji’s ears. “It hit you hard tonight, hm?”

Jiang Cheng merely hums, eyes hooded as he rubs his nose gently against the other’s cheek. “You hit me hard tonight.”

How to: break one’s own legs.

A soft laugh; something simmering beneath that gaze. “Mm, seems like it did.”

“Shut up,” is accompanied with a bite to Lan Wangji’s lip.

That’s better.

Lan Wangji gives a tentative roll of his hips then and Jiang Cheng’s teeth sink deeper. Enough to draw blood. Wangji hisses, but their lips remain locked.

“Wanyin,” his voice deepens. “I—ah, can I?” There’s a note of desperation underneath.

Fingers tightening in Wangji’s hair, he guides him closer; mashes their lips together and tastes iron.

Jiang Cheng nods, a frantic energy to it while he pushes back till his ass is cradled by his pelvis once more.

Lan Wangji’s breath hitches—and then he’s circling his hips tightly and forcing a keen.

Jiang Cheng can’t believe the bastard’s reduced him to such a wanton mess. How humiliating.

Might as well scrap whatever dignity is left then, he resolves as he fucks back on shaky arms.

“Don’t...you don’t have to hold back...Wangji.”

Look at yourself. Have you no face.

Those eyes widen with a simmering need, stunned by his brazenness perhaps. Same. Then he’s sliding up the desk again as Lan Wangji delivers a sharp thrust.

“Nn—you...might make me come again...like this...ah.”

Apparently, that’s all it takes for Lan Wangji’s control to splinter. A snarl and Jiang Cheng is nearly shoved to the edge of the desk. His hand twists in Wangji’s hair, the other shooting out to grip the edge of the desk for leverage. His mouth goes slack as he lets Lan Wangji chase after his pleasure in his body.

Oh, he’s ridiculous...how is he doing that.

“Wanyin, Wanyin...”

Jiang Cheng tosses his head back, overstimulated; it’s like his body is conflicted about what it wants. Torn between spreading his legs for more and writhing for escape.

No...the bastard will be smug for days if I give in.

He bears down and take it—while Lan Wangji takes it.

It’s like the last of Wangji’s restraint has cracked and he keeps taking, their bodies wet and so thoroughly entangled there’s no sense of where they begin and end.

Jiang Cheng trembles, shaking his head in delirium. “Ah—Wangji! Mnn...oh, you’re deep...you’re so deep...”

There’s a hand at his hip, nails digging into his flesh and Jiang Cheng feels the muscles in his abdomen tauten all over again, body gearing up for another fucking.

Lan Wangji yanks him back, callous, and Jiang Cheng swallows a scream.

Oh, he’s made the biggest slut out of me...I can’t...I can’t even deny it anymore.

“You...Wangji, a-are you close?” His eyes bulge at another prod to his prostate. “Shit...how have you not come yet...you—you’re going to break me.”

Lan Wangji gasps, sweaty temple stuck to his. “Wanyin.”

“Yes, that’s it...Wangji...take what you need.”

And he does.

Sliding out so abruptly Jiang Cheng gives a full-body shudder at the emptiness, hole clenching futilely around nothing. He whines restlessly, begging Lan Wangji to get back inside.

Incoherent, Jiang Cheng barely registers the way he’s being flipped over onto his back. His eyes are lidded and he squirms unhappily, craving that cock inside him—needing to feel full again.

“Wangji, p-put it—oh.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes snap shut, hand scrabbling for purchase at the edge of the desk.

He’s filled to the brim, crammed with Lan Wangji’s cock. Strong hands fall to his hips in a death grip.

Jiang Cheng feels him in his stomach. His body is an inferno and he can’t think; only knows the steady pound of Lan Wangji inside. His cock stirs again, slapping wetly against his abdomen. His clothes have been rucked up to his chest.

Bastard. He’s definitely ruined this suit.

He loses the thought at the next thrust. Lan Wangji leans in, hair splayed messily around them. Jiang Cheng’s free hand clutches the other’s clothed back, legs parting to let him in. There’s only the sound of their cries and the repeated slap of skin in the room.

“Wangji, Wangji—“ Jiang Cheng shakes, his voice guttural. “Yes...fuck me.”

“Wanyin.” He’s panting his name along with a litany of praises. It’s glorious.

Jiang Cheng hooks a leg across Wangji’s lower back then, fingers scratching at the expanse of it. It’s somewhat inhibiting with his slacks pooled around his thighs, but he undulates as close as possible, resolved to eliminate every inch of space between them down there.

Lan Wangji’s forehead is damp against his neck, and when Jiang Cheng presses lips to his temple he can feel the sweat dripping down his face.

It drives Jiang Cheng wild.

The desk shakes and he’s sliding hard enough across the surface for his skin to begin chafing. That shouldn’t stir him up as much as it does.

Jiang Wanyin, you’ve exceeded any sense of propriety.

“Oh—!” Jiang Cheng’s knuckles are white above him where he’s hanging on for life. He tries opening his eyes only for them to snap shut again when Wangji flattens his torso and reams. “Shit...you’re really doing it...god, I’m going to come again.”

The way Lan Wangji rumbles deep in his throat at that, speeding up. His thrusts are growing irregular, movements losing their fluidity as he gets closer.

Jiang Cheng wraps his leg tighter around him, pulling him in while he fucks with all that he has. He’s panting into Lan Wangji’s ear now, jargon and pleas with the occasional whine.

Perhaps they’ve both abandoned propriety.

“Wanyin—Wanyin...Wanyin...”

That sets his blood on fire.

“Yes,” chokes Jiang Cheng on a deep thrust. “Keep doing it...like that...yes—Wangji.”

His stomach tightens warningly again.

He’s babbling now, nonsense he’s sure. His head is thrown back, hair sticking to his forehead while he urges Lan Wangji on—whispers praises, tells him how he’s worshipping his body. There’s a harsh suction at his neck, interspersed with pricks to his skin.

Jiang Cheng is too close to the brink to give a shit.

His hand slips from the desk to wrap around the back of Wangji’s neck, needing something to ground him; needing to hold him close as his vision starts to darken again.

With a violent drive forward, Lan Wangji rams into his prostate. Jiang Cheng’s toes curl, a shout rent from his chest.

Lan Wangji’s voice is a quiver against his neck, rutting in without any sense of rhythm now. “Wanyin—I...can I...inside?”

He moans, honest to god near convulsions and with a dampness pooling in his eyes. His thighs clamp down on him, cradling those hips close. It causes Wangji to stutter, a high pitched noise in his ear.

Teeth latch onto that lobe, his voice wrecked. “Y-yes, inside...come inside me...Wangji—ah, make me wet...”

That nearly destroys Lan Wangji.

Fingers sink into his skin and hold on while he shifts his hips and chases his release blindly, fucking into Jiang Cheng like he intends to render him useless.

Jiang Cheng is losing his mind.

He shouts Lan Wangji’s name, clutching desperately at his nape and peppering kisses across his face, needy.

“Wanyin, I’m—“ a devastated noise and then his hips are jerking forward, sinking to the hilt before his frame stiffens and he’s spilling inside Jiang Cheng with a shudder.

Jiang Cheng’s mouth falls open on a hoarse cry as Lan Wangji settles deep, pelvis flush with his ass while he empties himself inside him.

He whines, body seizing at the flood of warmth before he’s coming apart on him—shivering uncontrollably as his muscles ripple around that cock, gripping so fiercely Lan Wangji is groaning loudly against his neck and pleading with him to relax.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure which of them is shaking harder; his fingers clasped tight over Wangji’s nape, keeping him pressed close enough to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

His eyes roll back in pleasure, riding wave after wave—on the brink of passing out, he’s sure, the exhaustion overtaking him. His stomach is wet, both his and Wangji’s shirts sullied with his come.

The reputable Jiang-zongcai...if they could see you now.

Lan Wangji is still pulsing deep inside him, arms trembling from the strain. Jiang Cheng lets out a quiet moan at how wet he’s making him, feeling some of it dribble from his hole onto the desk.

Through his pleasure-addled brain, he faintly registers Lan Wangji’s touch—still bruising even while he elevates Jiang Cheng’s hips only to slide deep until he’s nestled inside again.

And oh, that’s filthy.

But Jiang Cheng’s head currently feels separated from his shoulders, drifting somewhere in the clouds. He’s writhing on his desk, body wracked with shivers and oblivious to the way Lan Wangji stares, transfixed. Pupils dilated with lust, slowly coming down from his own high as sweat trickles from the bridge of his nose.

Lan Wangji burrows into the crook of his neck. He expels a tired breath, spent and sated for now. His lips find Jiang Cheng’s throat, damp with perspiration; he lays kisses where he can reach, gyrating slowly as the pleasure ebbs.

Jiang Cheng thinks it’s safe to say he’s been thoroughly seen to tonight. Chest rising and falling rapidly, he lets his release wash over him, hips undulating while he rides it out.

Shangdi.

His legs are still twined intimately around Wangji’s waist, slacks the only obstruction. Eyes closed, he emits small hums of gratification. Words are currently beyond his capacity, mind a divot.

The heat at his neck makes him twitch, but he’s helpless to do anything; only squirms when that tongue begins laving his skin.

Ass.

It’s possible there are fingers combing through his hair—maybe? It’s a bit of blur, admittedly.

He just knows he’s encompassed in darkness, with a delectable warmth that’s settled over him. It’s nice.

He doesn’t know how much time passes; hands gently brushing sweaty locks away from his forehead while the pressure remains keen between his thighs. Everywhere he aches.

With a shaky breath, Jiang Cheng blinks his eyes open. The room has finally settled enough for him to take note of moonlight casting its glow. His vision whites out for a second but he squints, trying to focus on what’s in front of him.

It takes him a moment to register Lan Wangji’s face hovering above his, layered with perspiration but that smile strangely indulgent—amused almost.

A thumb grazes his cheek softly. “There you are.”

Jiang Cheng’s lips are dry. He parts them to answer and just, “Mngh.”

Lan Wangji’s lips quirk, something lighting up his gaze.

Fucker...you try getting your insides rearranged and see if you fare any better.

Spoiler: he never does.

Lan Wangji plants a kiss to his jaw, moving up until he finds his lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Pretentious bastard.

Well, at least that’s how Jiang Cheng knows he’s starting to come back to himself.

Wetting his lips, he rasps, “You...what have you done to me?”

....

Perhaps he still has a ways to go.

Huffing, Lan Wangji nudges him lightly with the tip of his nose. “Mm. You went deep tonight, didn’t you?”

Actually, the only one who went deep here was you.

Jiang Cheng has to bite his tongue to censor the thought, filter evidently still out of order. Disgrace.

Instead, he settles for, “Shut up.”

A quiet laugh. “Mn.”

Jiang Cheng exhales, eyes briefly slipping shut to savor this. It shouldn’t be this good.

Definitely some form of black magic, he’s sure.

Either that, or he really does have Lan Wangji well-trained. Hm. Yes, he’ll go with that one.

Aside from not wanting the veil of ecstasy to lift just yet, the other downside to regathering his wits is that with it, comes the hyperawareness of where he aches. All over.

But especially below the waist—where the bastard is still stretching him out. Doesn’t look like he has plans of budging any time soon, judging by the willful look in those eyes.

He’s retained all his worst traits even to this point.

Jiang Cheng hisses at the jolt of pain when he shifts, quickly abandoning all efforts to move.

How inconvenient, this traitorous body.

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji murmurs against his neck, a lilt to his tone.

Jiang Cheng scowls, catching the slyness there. Feeling particularly vindictive, he squeezes down on him. It wipes the smug look right off Wangji’s face, those lips parting before he groans softly.

“Wanyin.” It’s a warning.

Jiang Cheng is...almost tempted.

But again—he is an ageing gentleman who needs to start prioritizing his physical well-being and if he goes for another round this quickly he may not actually have a spine to wake up to tomorrow.

No, he will pass.

He would like to keep his back and ass intact, thank you very much.

Heavens.

Is it possible for one’s mental acuity to be fucked out of their body as well, he considers hysterically. He is beginning to question if Lan Wangji has not managed to do just that.

Maybe this is why Huaisang said it was crucial to be selective with the dick.

A nip at his throat lures him from his thoughts.

“What are you thinking of?”

Nothi—

“Whether you’ve broken my brain with your dick.”

....

Jiang Wanyin, you’d do well to stop talking. Preferably for the rest of your life.

There’s a growing flush in Lan Wangji’s cheeks, easily disguised in shadows.

A cough. “Ah. Mn, I think you may still be coming down.”

Mayhap.

Idly, he lifts a hand to brush the hair from Wangji’s face. Strands cling damply to his temples and he combs his fingers through that curtain of hair.

Lan Wangji’s features soften. He catches his hand in his, interlacing their fingers before pressing lips to the inside of his wrist. All the while, his eyes remain locked on Jiang Cheng.

It makes his breath falter.

Sentimental fool.

It doesn’t stop Jiang Cheng from cupping the other’s face, drawing him close to bring their mouths together.

Two sentimental fools perhaps?

When Lan Wangji shifts to meet him, it ends up nudging his cock deeper and they groan in unison.

Jiang Cheng trembles, gaze heavy as he blinks up at Wangji. The other is watching him through half-lidded eyes, brimming with unspoken emotion like always. It causes a shiver to travel down his spine, incidentally making him tighten. Pent up emotion flares in Wangji’s eyes and Jiang Cheng could grow intoxicated off that alone.

He wriggles his hips, breath catching at the mess he can feel below. It’s sodden, sticky, and all kinds of vile.

Somehow, that’s right up his alley.

Jiang Cheng peers at him through his lashes, still feeling the last of his climax pulsing through him. He cranes his neck then to whisper into his ear, almost in disbelief, “Look at what you’ve done...can you feel how wet I am?”

“Wanyin.” The way it nearly comes out a whimper.

His fingers curl around his nape, lips grazing his ear. “If you could, would you have knocked me up already?” Kissing along his jaw, “Fucked a baby in here?”

A growl before Wangji’s mouth crushes his. Jiang Cheng rakes his hands through his hair, dampened with sweat.

It’s amusing how Lan Wangji still gets so wound up and embarrassed about this whenever Jiang Cheng brings it up, yet he’s the one propping his hips up—keeping them elevated so his come remains inside.

Jiang Cheng scoffs into his mouth, cheeky, “You naughty fellow...bit of a pervert, aren’t you?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes burn. “Wanyin—don’t.”

His brow arches, smile coy. “Oh? Or what?”

A shallow roll of hips and Jiang Cheng gasps. He’s awful.

“Unless you’re ready for another.” It’s whispered into his throat, and somehow it sounds like a threat and a promise in one.

Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng rasps, “You’re mad...inhuman.”

“Mm.”

“I already can’t feel my legs...what more do you want?”

A hum. “For you to feel nothing. Just me.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth drops. Lan Wangji, you...you depraved soul. Who taught you to speak like that?

“Is this because you didn’t get the sex for a week?” he blurts.

The dry look he receives is so characteristic of Lan-zongjian, Gusu’s corporate treasure, he nearly bursts into a fit on the spot.

The things a good lay will do to one’s intelligence.

“Ridiculous.” But there’s heat building in his neck and it’s a good thing this lighting gives little away.

Now that his mouth has gained traction, it doesn’t seem to be able to stop. Maybe Wangji was right...perhaps he’s still not fully present.

“Did you not get enough last week? I’m pretty sure you couldn’t move for a while.”

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes, silencing him with a kiss.

But Jiang Cheng is not so easily cowed.

This fool...who does he think he’s playing.

He undulates his hips teasingly, drawing a terse breath from the man above him. It makes him preen, basking in the afterglow of all this. And if it heightens his sensitivity a fraction, making him contract around him...well, some trade-offs are viable.

Jiang Cheng’s hands find purchase on his shoulders, head falling back as Wangji latches on. “Mm, is that why you’re so randy today? Wanted to ensure I can’t get up either?”

Jiang Cheng will never admit how close he came to succeeding.

“You’re talkative tonight.” Jiang Cheng hears the perhaps too talkative underlying it.

It makes him grin dopily.

His ancestors are rolling in their graves, he knows it.

“I can’t believe you did that—“

If he could just shut up.

“—going to hurt everywhere tomorrow. God,” he gives a breathy laugh. “What would Lan-zongcai do if he knew his nephew was fraternizing with the enemy like this.”

Lan Wangji’s face does this thing, and it’s hysterical.

“Please don’t bring up my uncle while I’m inside you.”

He gives a sharp bark of laughter, muscles tensing as a result and it draws a wince from Wangji.

“Wanyin,” his voice vibrates in his chest. Arms drift to his hips again, hitching his legs further before he rocks in lazily. The motion pushes something wet from his rim, feeling it drip down his ass.

There’s a tremor in Jiang Cheng‘s thighs and his nails dig into those shoulders. He shakes his head, frantic, “No, Wangji, no...I can’t.”

“Shh,” a peck to his jaw. “I know. Relax.”

Jiang Cheng’s lashes flutter, antsy as he writhes around him. Lan Wangji studies him carefully, eyes burning a trail. He swallows thickly.

“You...you’re hard again—how.”

Fingers slip back in his hair, pushing wet bangs from his face. Then Lan Wangji bends down till their lips brush and Jiang Cheng mewls.

“Don’t worry about it,” answers Lan Wangji, voice low. Soothing.

Easy for you to say when your ass is not the one on fire.

Even then, Jiang Cheng’s legs part unbidden. He feels Lan Wangji make space inside his body; inching in and staying like it’s where he belongs.

There’s still a pleasant rush in his head, receding the longer they lie there. Jiang Cheng trails a path absentmindedly across Lan Wangji’s back, feeling the material cling damply to his skin.

He expels a breath, satiated.

His eyes threaten to slide shut, the adrenaline gradually fading while exhaustion kicks in.

“Mm.”

Jiang Cheng feels Lan Wangji rest his head against his chest. He plays with the hair along his back, fingers tangling in smooth locks. There’s still a note of his cologne, muted now as it mingles with his sweat but Jiang Cheng breathes it in all the same. His grip tightens imperceptibly in that hair, legs wrapping closer around his waist.

“I’m sending you the dry cleaning bill later,” says Jiang Cheng after some time.

There’s a puff of air against his exposed collarbone, buttons having come undone sometime during the evening.

“Mn.”

“I’m serious—you’re paying for this. I told you not to ruin my suit.” He swears that’s not actually a pout in his tone; that would be infantile. He’s just miffed at the current state of one of his favorite suits. The conniving bastard.

Lan Wangji’s teeth drag lightly over his clavicle, making him flinch. “Mm. I’ll buy you a new one if you want.”

That’s....kind of sexy.

No—no, it’s not. Shut up.

There’s a line of come and lube leaking from his rim, and it’s off-putting to say the least. He nudges Wangji lightly, trying to shove him aside. It’s futile. The moment he does, Lan Wangji seems to double down—hand drifting to his waist to pin him in place while he eases in, pushing his come back inside and Jiang Cheng makes a warbled noise in his throat. That’s obscene.

“Wangji...”

A tongue at his clavicle, lapping the sweat dotting his skin. Immoral.

“Wanyin...let me stay inside.”

He groans. Insatiable. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mm.” The dark curl of satisfaction there makes Jiang Cheng shake his head.

Now that some of the clarity is restored, he senses some of his previous vexation return. Spitefully, he clenches around Lan Wangji. At that hiss, Jiang Cheng tugs suddenly at his hair, forcing the other to look at him.

Those eyes widen. Jiang Cheng revels in it.

Voice low, he murmurs, “That little stunt you pulled earlier—“ Recognition dawns in Wangji’s eyes, accompanied with something else. Something carnal. “That was...impudent.” His hair is yanked and that something heightens.

A stuttered sigh of his name.

Jiang Cheng pulls his head back to expose his throat before dragging a kiss there. He hears Lan Wangji’s breathing quicken and hums, pleased. “What am I going to do with you?” Something musky lingers as his tongue works over his throat.

“Wanyin,” he breathes out.

“Mmm.” Jiang Cheng’s muscles flex again and it pulls a whine along with hips shunting forward. His chest rumbles, and he grinds down lazily to meet him.

Lan Wangji stares at him entranced, lips parting subtly.

“My back is getting sore like this,” he noses at his jaw. “Either get off or move us to the sofa.”

The speed at which arms slip behind his back to sit him up, only to lift him by his thighs, is jarring.

Jiang Cheng feels his world tilt again as he’s hoisted and supported by Wangji’s arms, their bodies connected the entire time. His hands shoot out to grasp those shoulders right before he‘s stretched fully around that cock once more, ripping groans from them both.

His legs cradle his waist as much as possible, slacks now proving to be a hindrance as they bunch up at his knees. It doesn’t matter enough, however, because he’s capturing Lan Wangji’s face in his hands and slotting their mouths together. Desperate, longing—his libido working itself up once more as Wangji moves them to the other side of his office.

The way his arms hardly seem to strain with his weight rouses Jiang Cheng, hips moving of their own accord as he tries to seat himself on that cock.

Lan Wangji’s breath tickles his lips. “What happened to too much?”

“Shut up—shut up.” And then Jiang Cheng is quashing that chuckle with his mouth, catching his lips between his teeth and abusing the flesh.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Wangji’s lips were torn and bitten raw tomorrow. How unfortunate that Jiang Cheng can’t afford to care.

Because soon enough his back is hitting a plush surface, Lan Wangji on him immediately—his cock still lodged inside while Jiang Cheng’s legs spread to invite him in and then they’re fucking again. Hard and long on the sofa, bodies drenched in sweat and toiled with exertion while Jiang Cheng grasps onto the arm of it like it’s the only thing preventing his mind from fragmenting.

While Lan Wangji drives into him, all inhibitions discarded as he ruts with abandon—and takes and takes, the only sounds filling the air the wet slaps of skin and cries of ecstasy as they chase the highest peaks of pleasure.

All in all, it’s a good night.

_______

They’re sprawled across the sofa—now pulled out in all its capacity as a makeshift bed, sweaty bodies intertwined.

Jiang Cheng’s head tips back, chest heaving as he works on coming down from the last one.

He laughs, delirious; eyes unable to focus on anything in the moonlit room. Fingers are carding through his hair again, plastered to his face and dripping with sweat.

He could probably do with a shower, they both could.

Tomorrow perhaps.

Jiang Cheng’s voice wobbles as he blinks up at the ceiling. “You—you’re an animal.”

He receives a noncommittal hum in return, hands cradling his face with a tenderness he’d probably needle the other for if only he were more coherent. As it is, he’s decidedly...not. Jiang Cheng can barely make out the caress of his cheeks, mind riddled with euphoria.

Sometime during the night, their clothes had been shucked off. Bare bodies now firmly entwined and still interlocked as the bastard had refused to let up, making a sopping mess of him as he fucked it all back inside—only to fill him again till he nearly couldn’t take it and felt it drip down his cheeks.

And now it’s just vile and messy, his body a wasteland and Wangji’s sofa a sodden disaster.

Good luck getting that one cleaned...again.

Jiang Cheng has forgotten the function of his limbs, body still wracked with shudders. Lan Wangji is there, framing his face and littering kisses softly against his overheated skin. His lower body remains idle even as he‘s sheathed in him.

It’s—he’s actually speechless.

He feels gross. They both do, covered in sweat and come while they embrace so the filth only smears between them.

That’s...crude.

Again, he wishes there was cognizance left to care.

The moon casts a faint glow, illuminating the entanglement of their naked bodies.

Lan Wangji’s breathing is staggered against his chest, perspiration trickling down his neck as he watches Jiang Cheng come to himself.

When he does, it’s with an agonized moan and bleary gaze.

“You—d-don’t move,” Jiang Cheng clasps his arms tightly. “I...just wait...”

Complying, Lan Wangji resumes stroking his hair. His lips graze his throat despite Jiang Cheng’s mewls of displeasure, feeling him quiver in his arms.

Jiang Cheng‘s breaths are uneven while he collects his brain from the floor, shocked he’s still capable of such a task.

“I—I can’t believe you,” his mouth hangs open, thighs splayed and unable to close. Quite the achievement: how Lan Wangji has made his legs shake.

A gentle huff. “Mm, is it enough for you?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Jiang Cheng gripes, joints aching everywhere. “You’ve destroyed me.”

And he has. Aside from the warfare launched on his person, there’s an emotional drainage accompanying it. Visceral, more than anything. But it’s like the decimation he needs to ensure rejuvenation.

Somewhere in Jiang Cheng’s mind it makes sense.

His ass aches something fierce as well, rim swollen and gaping around that cock. Lan Wangji truly took no prisoners and Jiang Cheng can’t decide whether to slug him or thank him.

Frankly, he’s not sure he has it in him to do either.

He lets himself be held instead, feeling that rapid pulse against his own. Jiang Cheng sighs, sated and devastated beyond recognition. He should have known Lan Wangji was hardly faring better, if the periodic tremors tell him anything.

Perhaps they’ve both overexerted themselves.

Not the worst way to kick off the weekend.

He says that now, but when this old body of his disintegrates to dust tomorrow—what then.

On second thought, fuck Lan Wangji...the bastard.

He has no business laying waste to his personhood like this. If Lan Wangji was looking for an effective way to eliminate the competition, he thinks he’s found it.

His skin is blazing, exacerbated by Lan Wangji wound so close around him but that’s hardly compelling enough for him to let go.

Evidently, a satisfying fuck also has the ability to drive away his sensibilities.

The way you continue to lose face this evening, Jiang Wanyin.

“You’re thinking again.” Lan Wangji interrupts his thoughts.

With more cohesiveness than anticipated, Jiang Cheng says, “I’m—not thinking...at all...you took that away.” Then, “Ass.”

Lan Wangji nips at his skin, vindictive. Jiang Cheng keens.

“How do you feel?”

“Nnn—ask tomorrow...when...mm.”

A laugh resounds in his ears. Jiang Cheng would clock him but. Well.

There’s still a quiver to his legs as he lowers them. It allows more room for Wangji to crowd deeper and he does. Jiang Cheng groans, nerves lit; his rim flexes with the pressure and he seeps from where it’s full and wet inside. He loathes Lan Wangji.

Those arms wrap tighter around him then, Wangji’s hair tickling his face while he cradles him close. Jiang Cheng tuts. His own hands find their way across Wangji’s back as well, slippery to the touch and hair clinging to it as he feels the heat seep through. Weakly, he runs his hands across Wangji’s skin; nails digging into his shoulders and lower back as another aftershock ripples through him.

He exhales, bracing himself for it. Then he feels Lan Wangji’s hands wind around his back and pull him into an embrace. Jiang Cheng gasps, fingers clutching Wangji’s hair as the movement sends a shock of pain through his system. He moans quietly.

“If you go again, I’ll kill you.”

Lan Wangji’s soft laughter at his neck. “Mn.”

Like this, Jiang Cheng slowly seems to regain some semblance of consciousness. Partially, at least.

Enough for him to blurt out, “I should kill you anyways for your insolence.”

Lan Wangji entertains him, mouthing lightly at his neck. “Mm. He may not know you had company.” If Jiang Cheng is not mistaken, he’d say Wangji sounds almost chuffed.

Fucker.

“I think he can put two and two together,” he snorts, twirling strands of hair now. “We’ve scarred him.”

Lan Wangji chuckles. “Perhaps, it is repayment. For the damage he has inflicted on my well-being.”

Jiang Cheng hums, only half-processing. “Hmm?” It comes out more like a warble.

There is a pause, then, “Wei Ying is...explicit, in his regard for Nie Huaisang.”

This startles a surprised laugh from Jiang Cheng, hoarse and spent but there. Wangji’s arms tighten, drawing him closer to his chest.

“No.”

“Mn.”

At that, a giggle escapes him; breathless and giddy. “Imagine what’ll happen if they ever do hook up then.”

“....”

Jiang Cheng crows. “No!”

He misses the pained look on Lan Wangji’s face entirely. “Mn.”

“I can’t believe it. My poor Wangji.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t notice the slip of tongue; Lan Wangji does.

Forehead beading with sweat, he rests it against Wangji’s temple. His fingers have found their way to his scalp now, kneading lightly.

“Perhaps I should dismember him as well.” He slurs, tongue still thick. “I told him to stay away from my director.”

“Mmm,” a peck, “Does Wei Ying ever listen to anyone?”

“....Shut up.”

A laugh.

He may be right, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to like it.

“Whatever,” he says after some time again. Feeling more come trickling down his thighs, he fidgets. At the sharp intake in his ear, he relaxes again. He is not entirely heartless, after all.

Not like one specific heathen he knows.

Speaking of which—

“Are you going to get out of me now?”

Silence.

“Lan Wangji, I know you heard me.”

Still nothing.

“Don’t ignore me,” he tries to tug the other by his hair.

Those arms only wind tighter around his back, nose burrowing into the dip of his neck now.

“Lan-zongjian.”

“I hear nothing.”

Jiang Cheng tuts, dismissing the twitch of his lips.

“You’re so childish,” then a hitch of breath when Lan Wangji shifts his hips forward in response. He shudders, gripping onto damp hair.

“Mmm.” Those hands at his back brush over the slight welts there, recently healed. “Do they still hurt?”

A scoff. “So kind of you to ask after dragging my back across your desk and sofa.”

There’s a prick at his neck in retaliation. Jiang Cheng hisses, his fingers tightening warningly in those strands.

Petty bastard.

“They’re fine, you ass.” A pause, before, “Besides, after the havoc you’ve wreaked, I doubt a few old scratches will make any difference.”

“Hm.” But Lan Wangji’s touch gentles, tracing over the bumps almost reverently.

So sticky.

Slumber threatens to take him, his lids growing heavier by the second. Especially with the way Lan Wangji continues tracing patterns along his back.

“Cold,” he mumbles sleepily, inadvertently curling into Wangji’s chest then.

Lan Wangji pulls him closer, blanketing his frame with his own to the best of his abilities. He draws him into his chest then, chin resting against his head and arms snared protectively around him.

“Mm,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, cheek sticking to flushed skin. “Should get...blankets...next time.”

You fool, what next time.

His brain is too sleep-addled to process it. Tomorrow will be a trip and heavens, will he hurt but for now Jiang Cheng merely buries his face in Lan Wangji’s chest.

He feels it rumble beneath him. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“Sap,” he yawns, but his hands slip around Wangji’s waist then. Find purchase there. Stay.

Lips brush across his sweaty forehead. Jiang Cheng hums.

He’s almost gone under when Lan Wangji’s question unexpectedly pulls him back up.

“What was in the envelope?”

The thought registers belatedly, mind taking a while to process before the words can sink in. It lures him from slumber then, in increments as a slip of consciousness returns.

He blinks. “Mm?”

A quiet laugh. “The envelope on my desk. What you came here for.”

Ah, right. The one likely scattered somewhere on the floor or painted with their bodily fluids. Delightful.

His hands coil tighter around that waist, leg finding the strength to curl around his back then before drawing him deeper. His breath fans across Wangji’s collarbone, feeling those hips stutter and push forward out of instinct. He purrs, a lure to his tone.

“Look at it tomorrow.”

If Lan Wangji catches it, he makes no mention. Merely nods, tucking Jiang Cheng right in and easing into him. He shifts them into as comfortable a position they can manage on the makeshift bed, legs tangled and both hanging on without full realization perhaps.

“Mn.”

Jiang Cheng expels a breath, basking in the weight of him and the remnants of the afterglow.

He senses the impending slumber swell and wash over Lan Wangji, those muscles slackening as he naturally succumbs to it, all the while still buried in him. Jiang Cheng holds him, eyes glistening in the dark and more alert now than they were moments prior.

His jie’s words from the past resonate then, somehow recalling it with startling clarity.

You’ve always been protective of what you deem yours, Yinyin...covetous, almost.

Lan Wangji’s breaths deepen against his neck.

It’s one of your greatest strengths and shortcomings at the same time.

His hands trail over the dip of that back.

Remember that boy who would come around sometimes when you were younger...the one who picked on Xianxian and pushed him to the ground once, making him scrape his knees?

That, he does.

That time he fell down the stairs in our home and broke his arm...I remember looking up at you and there was this—look in your eyes, and I just knew. You kept claiming it was an accident, that he tripped on his own.

He vaguely remembers the claim.

What you consider yours, you guard with your life. I think it blinds you sometimes.

His phone call with Huaisang slowly supplants the thought in his mind.

“That’s...a bit ruthless isn’t it? You generally don’t engage in these things.”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong, per se.

“Yes, it’s all in there. I’ll drop it off later. Should be...enough for Gusu to work off of. In addition to the extra information you requested in there.”

Lan Wangji’s breathing has evened out now, those arms hindering escape.

“But Jiang Cheng, there’s enough there to compromise most of the board and Wens’ shareholders.”

His lips graze Wangji’s temple.

“Are you sure this is the route you want to go?”

He notes the sweat has begun to cool on his skin.

“Ah...alright then. It’ll be on your desk by next week. They—well, they’ll certainly be in for a treat when they find the terms of the meeting to be somewhat...unconventional.”

Jiang Cheng had only offered a hum of affirmation then. Now—now the thought makes the glint in his eyes deepen, thigh hooking deeper around that waist.

A laugh. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure you had it in you Jiang-zongcai. Mm, remind me never to fuck over your family.”

The steady rise and fall of Lan Wangji’s chest begins to lull him to sleep once more. His presence above him—inside him, is a reassuring thing.

His eyes slip shut as he surrenders to his fatigue but not before a lingering thought manages to slip through the cracks: that perhaps jie and Nie Huaisang were onto something after all.

He sleeps better than he has all week.

Notes:

take a shot every time jc uses the word bastard. lol I’m totally kidding please don’t, I do not want anyone to end up in the hospital
zongcai, fuzongcai, and zongjian would be like president/chairman, vp, and director(CFO) respectively, within this context. so many creative liberties were taken here I'm sorry lol. honestly, I know zilch about the corporate world aside from what google tells me. I just wanted zhancheng in suits fucking over a desk, pls😔
also...have refractory periods been conveniently disregarded for the sake of papapa? why yes, yes they have🤗
thank you for reading! <3

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