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Thick air, saturated by resentful energy, surrounds Lan Wangji as he walks along the path of the Burial Mounds. He’s not afraid, not here; Wei Wuxian, whatever he may think of Wangji, will not let the darkness harm him. There would be no point to letting him past the entrance otherwise. Still, the atmosphere is oppressive; still, Wangji cringes at every snapped twig and every rustling leaf. It’s unnatural, this place. He has to succeed, has to bring Wei Wuxian home.
As he walks in silence, he thinks about what he wants to say. Wangji already knows that Wei Wuxian won’t fully understand his intentions, hopes instead that what little he can convey in words will lead him to read between the lines. A futile hope, faint and fading every time Wangji sees him, but he isn’t the type to give up on what he believes in.
The scent of unwashed omega hits him square in the nose before he makes it to the settlement. It knocks him back a few paces before he can suppress his instinctive reaction to recoil. There is only one pheromone signature he is here to seek out, and it is not that of an omega.
Wei Wuxian waves to him from the front of his residence. Wangji can immediately tell his scent is off, even from the mouth of the clearing. His lips part in anguish; his heart skips a beat. Wei Wuxian is sick, lacking... something. An essential piece of himself. But what?
It had been missing last time, he realizes, but not like this. This time, there is a hole in Wei Wuxian, and it’s been filled with restless spirits.
He is losing the battle.
Wangji does his best to hide his apprehension from the man himself, instead focusing on the positive things the Yiling Patriarch is doing. This is not Wangji’s first time visiting Wei Wuxian’s den; before, he had both admired and pitied him. Had admired and pitied all of them, from old Granny Wen all the way down to sweet little A-Yuan. This is no way to live, no place to live, surrounded by ash and memories of blood. But Wei Wuxian is doing it, even managing to coax life from the soil, enough to sustain his little family.
“How do you do it?” he asks, wondering against his will how and what the hell Wei Wuxian had even eaten in his three-month side trip here.
“Do what? Take a seat, will you? You’re making me twitch.”
Wangji does not say that if either of them is twitchy, it is not him. He sits and accepts the offered tea, watches Wei Wuxian as he paces, restless: a tiger in a cage.
He wants to gesture, to explain, to make a pronouncement: How did you survive here for so long, in the dark? How do you do it even now? How are you coping with the loss of your clan, your family, your home?
How are you so perfect?
“Live here.”
“The same way you live anywhere else. Hard work. Community.”
Why will you not sit down? Wangji wants to ask. Am I the one trapping you in the cage? Is that what you think?
Are you afraid of me? There’s no need to be.
“Mn.”
It’s quiet, this Demon-Subdue Palace of his. Much better suited to Wangji’s austere preferences. Nothing like Wei Wuxian. This silence, full of echoes of the dead, Wangji decides, does not suit him.
Wei Wuxian finally sits on his cushion, but he doesn’t pour himself tea. He watches Wangji closely. Wangji would squirm if he were - anyone else. Maybe not xiongzhang, but anyone else.
The light in your eyes, he wants to say. Where has it gone?
“Why are you really here?” Wei Wuxian finally asks, his mouth twisted by something bitter. “Surely it’s not a friendly visit.” There’s something accusatory in his tone, like Wangji had had a choice before and had left of his own accord.
Maybe he had had a choice. Maybe he should’ve stayed, and damned the consequences.
The thought, predictably, does not sit well with him.
“Come back to Gusu with me,” he pleads, not knowing what else to say. Not knowing how to say it.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes roll, an eerie echo of Jiang Wanyin. “If you’re going to do this again, I can escort you out. I don’t need to hear it.”
I want to hide you. I want to care for you. I want you.
“Why won’t you come?” he asks helplessly, and wonders how he doesn’t flinch when Wei Wuxian levels a glare at him, the lines at the corner of his eyes tight with tension.
“I don’t follow the rules of the cultivation world,” Wei Wuxian says, a little self-deprecating and a lot condescending, as though irritated that he has to explain his eccentricities again. As if Wangji is unaware. Wangji feels his hackles rise. “Gusu Lan invented the rules, didn’t they? Does that make sense to you, then, me coming back to the Cloud Recesses?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
Wei Wuxian stands and grabs him by the wrist. Wangji wants to protest, but what can he say? He doesn’t have the gift Wei Wuxian does, can’t magic his way into the hearts of others. Anything he’d say would just set Wei Wuxian off.
Let me give you my heart.
If only he had a platter that could hold the weight of it.
“You need to leave,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling him toward the exit. “I don’t want to see you here again.”
Wei Wuxian’s voice is far too soft for the blow his words cause. It’s sharp, hot, this pain, spikes pressed into Wangji’s flesh. Gently and by a friend, which is - worse, somehow. He wants to spit it out, cleanse his qi, but it’s a wound far too deep for that. It cuts to the very core of him.
Wangji finds himself irrationally near tears as they pass what remains of the Wen sect. They sneak surreptitious glances, of course, curious but not curious enough to incur their master’s wrath. There is no doubt in Wangji’s mind that Wei Wuxian would prefer to keep this - whatever this is - private between them.
They’re almost at the border of the Burial Mounds, both deep in contemplation, when he becomes truly desperate and pulls on Wei Wuxian’s sleeve, digging his heels in like a horse in front of fire.
“Please?” he asks - begs.
Wei Wuxian swings his arm in an arc, unseating Wangji’s fist. He turns around and glowers, eyes glowing red for a brief moment before fading back to brown.
Adrenaline spikes through Wangji’s system, fear and the exhilaration that comes from having the focus of the Yiling Patriarch on him; he avoids dropping his eyes like an omega during the standoff that follows, but just barely.
His hands give him away, though; they tremble, and Wei Wuxian notices.
Can’t you see how much I want you? How much I need you?
Come back to Gusu with me, Wei Ying.
He’s desperate to say it, but the words just aren’t there. Nothing is there but heavy breath and sharp nails that dig into his fingers with his frustration.
Something catches up to Wei Wuxian, then, some answer to a question Wangji isn’t privy to. He smiles, sharp and sarcastic. “A duel, then? Is that what it comes to?”
“What happens if I win?” Wangji asks. “Will you come to Gusu then?”
“No. You’ll just get to say you beat the Yiling Laozu on his home turf. Bragging rights.” Wei Wuxian shrugs, swinging Chen Qing. “I might even let you visit again, provided you agree to leave Gusu out of it.”
“And if I lose?”
“You’ll go and never come back.”
It’s all fallen apart so quickly. How did it come to this? he wonders, and Wei Wuxian puts Chen Qing to his mouth and plays.
He can’t help it then; his alpha instincts take over, driving coherent thought from his brain. Bichen is out in a split second, thrown to force Wei Wuxian to either block or move, stalling the demonic energy long enough for Wangji to step close. It’s a battle of resolve more than skill, because neither of them is willing to strike the killing blow. It is this that gives Wangji foolish hope, hope that the carefree young boy he’d fallen in love with is still in there somewhere. Wei Wuxian will not kill him because they’d made a promise. Whatever they are to each other now, that is assured.
More than that, though, Wangji wants to lose. He wants to submit. The thought drives him wild, makes him hard, cock pressing uncomfortably against his inner robe. He can’t deny having thought about it, of course; how else would two alphas go about mating with each other? One would have no choice but to lie down and take it.
And while Wangji would have gladly sacrificed himself for that particular cause, would still do so, being faced with it is a different matter. They’re in the Burial Mounds, in the woods, surrounded by the dead. It’s not a place to feed, and certainly not a place to be fed upon , yet Wangji nevertheless hopes Wei Wuxian is starving.
Besides, maybe it’s fitting, characteristic of their entire relationship. The sweet, fun-loving boy turned towards darkness, their tumultuous friendship blown brown and brittle by the power of whatever lives inside that hole Wangji had sensed within Wei Wuxian.
Wangji makes a decision. He uses Bichen to stagger Wei Wuxian, takes a deep breath to calm his alpha instincts, then falls to his knees in supplication, the back of his neck bared. His body trembles, every cell battling against his will, whispering danger, danger, danger! But he is again successful at suppressing it, some part of him knowing that Wei Wuxian would never hurt him.
Not in ways he doesn’t want to be hurt, at least.
There is a harsh breath drawn above him before the arm holding Chen Qing drops to Wei Wuxian’s side, the grey fog of malevolent energy dissipating as the flute clacks against his qiankun pouch. Wangji closes his eyes and waits for judgment.
To his surprise, Wei Wuxian begins to laugh. It’s fragile at first, disbelieving, like maybe he thinks Wangji is fooling around with him, but it quickly edges into true mirth. The forest itself seems shocked by his hysteria, falling silent and still, and Wangji can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tilt upwards.
The laughter is cut off as suddenly as it had begun, a stark contrast that forces Wangji to damn near hold his breath in order to avoid giving himself away - though what he is avoiding, even he can’t figure out. There is nothing more vulnerable than this, what he is doing right now. There is nowhere lower for him to go.
Wei Wuxian paces around him, once more waving Chen Qing. Its tassel flies by his field of vision, marking time. “Ah, Lan Zhan. This is what you wanted. I couldn’t quite figure it out, you know. I have to admit, I’m shocked. Surely this behavior is frowned upon in the Cloud Recesses?”
“We’re not in the Cloud Recesses.”
Wei Wuxian stops directly in front of him. Peals of laughter leave his lips, his genuine delight at Wangji actually talking back to him obvious. “This is true. But you wanted me to come back there, did you not? Do you really think you could get away with it there?”
“Wouldn’t care.”
“The Second Jade couldn’t even stand to be seen in the company of the Yiling Patriarch, let alone admit he submits to him like a perfect little omega.”
“I wouldn’t care,” Wangji repeats. He just wants Wei Wuxian to - he just wants.
Wei Wuxian kneels down at the same level. He lifts Wangji’s chin and forces him to meet his gaze. Wangji shudders when those fathomless brown eyes shimmer with malevolent energy, scarlet pinpricks he couldn’t look away from if he tried. His cock strains against its confines, the friction against his inner robes almost painful now. He breathes deeply. Anything to hold back the needy noises that want to escape.
“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, almost under his breath, focus sharp on Wangji. Wangji is nothing more than a bug underneath his boot, desperate for the weight of him, desperate to be crushed. Knowing it’s where he belongs. “I am going to wreck you now,” Wei Wuxian purrs. “Now get up,” he adds, tone keen enough to cut.
His grip on Wangji’s wrist is strong enough to leave bruises as he pulls him to his feet, though Wangji goes willingly. Unsure what to expect, he watches Wei Wuxian watch him, head tilted to the side like he’s trying to figure out what, exactly, to do with this unexpected submission. Wangji doesn’t quell the urge to tilt his head back and expose his neck for Wei Wuxian to ravish, instead giving in to it, a subtle but clear invitation.
Wei Wuxian does not waste time. Like a dam has been broken, he steps into Wangji’s space and bites right over his scent gland. Blood drips down Wangji’s neck almost immediately, pooling slightly at the dip of his collarbone. It takes him a moment to realize those rhythmic ah-ah-ah sounds are coming from him. He can’t spare the focus on breathing as his world narrows down to Wei Wuxian’s mouth, his sharp teeth digging into Wangji’s sensitive skin, his hands gripping him by the waist, possessive. The tickle of his hair, fuzzy from the humidity, against his chin. The unbearable heat of him.
His own possessive pride rises when Wei Wuxian pulls back, gasping and aroused, pupils blown, blood dripping down his chin. He watches, fascinated, as Wei Wuxian licks some of it from his lower lip. He looks like pure sin standing there in front of Wangji, unapologetic and unashamed and so, so hot.
“I could mark you, you know,” Wei Wuxian tells him conversationally. “Make you mine permanently. The whole world would smell me on you. They’d know I took you, right here amongst the trees with the ghosts watching. Would you like that, Lan Wangji?”
A whimper escapes his lips, damning evidence of his desire to be claimed - not for a simple tryst, but in the way an alpha takes an omega.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes begin to glow again. Wangji is helpless to look away, enraptured by the energy swirling through Wei Wuxian’s being. He is somehow drawn to the darkness as much as he is the light that lives in Wei Wuxian.
“I’ll do it, you know,” Wei Wuxian suddenly growls, and before he knows it, Wangji is twisted around and pressed against the nearest tree, one elbow bent sharply behind his back, Wei Wuxian grinding him, crushing him into it. His arousal is obvious, hard and hot against the back of Wangji’s thigh, breath scalding and harsh in his ear. “You think I won’t do it? Send you home to your uncle smelling like my seed so he knows who owns you?”
Wangji barely comprehends the enormity of that, the repercussions. He knows, academically, that they are there, that if he agrees, it will come back to haunt him as surely as the spirits inside Wei Wuxian haunt him. But his head is swimming in his arousal, drowning in it, and right now - always - that is what matters. Wei Wuxian is his alpha. That is all that matters.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as he arches his back, his body saying everything that needs to be said.
“You want more than just my cock in you, hmm? They might make you come live here, you know. Kick you out of your precious Gusu.”
“Wei Ying - “
Wei Wuxian chuckles, low and breathy, before he kisses the meat of Wangji’s shoulder, the most gentle he’s been in the eternity since this started. Another glimpse of the boy he first fell in love with. The deep breath before the plunge; they both know how this goes, and it’s not kind. It could never have been kind, not even before Wei Wuxian had turned to demonic cultivation.
“Keep your hands against the tree,” Wei Wuxian commands, and Wangji hurries to obey, lays his hands on the bark with enough pressure to leave marks. Wei Wuxian reaches around him to remove his sash, which is quickly followed by his baby blue outer robe. He watches it fall to the ground, lively color a stark and absurd contrast against the muted grey and brown backdrop. The other robes follow until they are no more than a mud-crusted heap, what remains of Wangji’s purity.
He arches his back again unconsciously when Wei Wuxian has him bare, the summer air strangely cool against his burning skin. Wei Wuxian kicks his legs wide apart and kneels down behind him; Wangji feels his eyes like a brand, searing, leaving no part of him untouched. His hole clenches involuntarily when Wei Wuxian slaps his ass. He is being judged, inspected like livestock; humiliation makes him light-headed, and he has to lean against the tree just to remain upright.
He hears Wei Wuxian push his robes to the side and pull down his trousers, and gods he wants to see, to watch, to appreciate the man the way he deserves to be appreciated, but what would Wei Wuxian do if he so much as twitched? Besides, he wants to be good. He can be good.
For Wei Wuxian, he can do anything.
“I wasn’t exactly planning this, or I might have brought oil to ease the way.”
“Don’t care. Do it.”
“You don’t want me to lubricate you, sweetheart?” Wei Wuxian asks, tone condescending. He steps closer, close enough for Wangji to smell his sweat, the musky odor of an alpha overlaid with his own signature, something like peonies in a meadow that makes Wangji light-headed.
Wangji can’t lie; while his cultivation will protect him against any real damage, an alpha cock isn’t small, and he can’t help but be intimated. “Mn,” he says, licking his lips.
Wei Wuxian huffs, amused. “No guarantees anyway,” he responds flippantly. “I said might have,” and forces himself in.
Pain explodes from his center outwards. His hole flutters around the intrusion, body trying to rid itself of the phallus splitting him wide open. Wei Wuxian is so big, too big, his cock meant to slide easily into a waiting omega instead of ramming itself dry into another alpha. He’s screaming, he knows, and crying, too, tears squeezing from his eyes at every push of Wei Wuxian’s thick alpha cock inside him.
Wangji had guessed at how this would feel, only his hand and camellia oil to aid him in the imagining. Not even his wildest dreams could compare to the reality, though, the way his hypersensitive body responds to Wei Wuxian’s demands, acquiescing, adjusting to the size of him and letting him take what rightfully belongs to him.
Once Wei Wuxian is fully seated inside Wangji’s body, he takes a moment to breathe, panting against Wangji’s shoulder, in tandem with Wangji’s own breaths. “I didn’t know you’d feel this good,” he mumbles, and Wangji silently celebrates how fucking wrecked he sounds.
“I did,” he manages.
Wei Wuxian laughs breathlessly. “Lan Zhan, you truly are something special. Devious little shit,” he grunts, swiveling his hips to punctuate his words.
“Ahh,” Wangji breathes, “More. Please.” Move, let me feel you, scrape me raw inside.
“Ah? You asked for it,” Wei Wuxian says, but his bluster is belied by the way his voice trembles.
Then he draws back and pushes in again, hard, and Wangji leaves this earth for another plane of existence.
The agony of Wei Wuxian spearing him open over and over again is heightened by the way his own cock is repeatedly forced against the harsh tree bark. Sparks alight up and down his spine with every thrust, need building deep in his gut. A litany of Wei Ying escapes him, every ounce of worship torn raw and bloody from his lips.
Wei Wuxian seems just as far gone as Wangji, his mouth running away, careless. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you’re here. You feel incredible, so tight. How are you this tight? How are you this - fuck - “
“Wei Ying - “
Wei Wuxian’s hips begin to stutter as he nears his climax, and every word is filthier than the last. “Gonna mark you inside, make you nice and slippery - “ and how is Wangji supposed to stand this? “ - you take me like a champ, like you’re made for me. Mine, mine, mine,” he growls, and Wangji arches his back to take more, as much of Wei Wuxian as Wei Wuxian can give. It’s not enough; it’ll never be enough. “I’m gonna - Lan Zhan, you listen to me. You hear me? Listen.”
Wangji can do nothing more than whimper, but Wei Wuxian hears the affirmative: I’m listening, I’m always listening.
“If I mark you, they’ll… I need to, I need to mark you, I need to claim you, Lan Zhan … I need your consent.” He groans, the effort to hold back clear. He wouldn’t do it if Wangji didn’t agree, would come inside Wangji and pull out and that would be that.
Wangji doesn’t want that. Wangji wants to be surrounded by his scent all day, every day, wants to be reminded of who he belongs to at all times, and damn everyone else. He wants his knot, but he can only get it if he accepts the consequences.
There was never any question. He’s always known that if it comes down to this, Wei Wuxian can have whatever he wants to take from Wangji.
He begs. It’s unbecoming of the Second Jade of Lan, the second-most sought after alpha in the cultivation world, to debase himself like an omega, but he begs anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he did or not, because Wei Wuxian owns him and always has.
“You’re mine, then,” Wei Wuxian snarls one last time, then sinks his teeth into the back of Wangji’s neck just as he begins to fill him with his seed.
His knot begins to swell right away, the release of pheromones mixing with those of Wangji, creating an unbreakable bond between them. Wangji’s mouth opens as he’s overwhelmed with even more sensation, his hole stretching to accommodate his alpha. Wei Wuxian twists his hips, wrenching his cock at an angle that makes Wangji go off like a firework, come streaking the tree in spurts that seem to go on forever.
He’s exhausted when his cock finally stops spewing, sweat-slick and completely spent, but Wei Wuxian isn’t finished with him yet. This, he hadn’t thought of, how Wei Wuxian’s knot would keep him in place for at least another ten minutes… ten minutes during which he’ll be at his alpha’s mercy.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t take advantage at first, breathing heavily with his forehead resting against the back of Wangji’s head. Wangji loves the closeness, the way Wei Wuxian’s arms are wrapped around him like he never wants to let go.
But Wei Wuxian is also devious, and soon he’s practically purring as his hips swivel, centimeter by centimeter, searching for that spot inside Wangji that will make him come until he’s dry if that’s what pleases Wei Wuxian.
And unsurprisingly, it does please him - Wangji spends the next quarter hour with his muscles spasming around Wei Wuxian’s cock as he wrings orgasm after orgasm out of him, even past the point he has nothing left to give. He is once again in tears by the time Wei Wuxian’s knot begins to recede, held up only by the solid presence of Wei Wuxian at his back and the tree in front of him, but he still feels tragically empty when the cock slides from his hole with a slick sound.
The little clearing is utterly silent, not even the spirits willing to stir up dust. Wangji leans his forehead against the tree, spots dancing at the edge of his vision. He tries to move away a few times, but gives it up when his legs won’t stay underneath him.
He loses track of what’s happening, drifting in a sated bubble, only aware of bits and pieces - being uncomfortably jostled by Wei Wuxian’s firm hands, the slide of dirtied silk over hypersensitive skin, the murmurs and mutters of the Wens when he’s carried back to the Demon-Subdue Palace. He vaguely catches an it’s alright, he’s fine, no need to worry from Wei Wuxian and can just imagine the knowing glances of the omegas amongst his people.
The next time he’s fully conscious, Wei Wuxian has him on his hard, lumpy bed and is wrapped around him, chest to Wangji’s back, their fingers intertwined. Wei Wuxian stirs when he does, ever alert to both his environment and now his… well, whatever Wangji would be called now. Fellow alpha isn’t right, but neither is omega.
Whatever he can be called, Wangji is owned nevertheless.
“Welcome back,” Wei Wuxian mutters. He sounds satisfied. He sounds almost happy.
“Mn.”
“We need to have a talk about what comes next.”
Wangji pulls Wei Wuxian’s arm tighter around him, a silent plea, though for what he’s not sure. “Mn.”
“First off, you are going to learn to communicate better,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling away so that Wangji’s shoulders sag to lie flat against the makeshift mattress. “No more of this ‘ mn ,’ are we clear?”
Wei Wuxian speaking to him in that voice does something funny to his insides. His cock starts to stir again, painful though it is. “Mn.”
Wei Wuxian bites his lip to keep from laughing.
“I will try,” he adds.
“Good,” Wei Wuxian says softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. “Second, you belong to me now. And I don’t want to take you from your home, but if you go back to Gusu and they hurt you, I promise you they will feel my wrath. What I did to win the Sunshot Campaign won’t come close to what I’ll do to protect my property. And I don’t think you want that. Do you?”
Wangji swallows. It’s loud in this strange, oppressive place. “No.”
“So your choices are clear. Go home and risk it, or stay with me. But if you go home, you will come visit. Your alpha has… needs, now that he’s tasted you.”
Wangji’s mouth opens, but no sounds escape. His cock twitches again.
Wei Wuxian takes Chen Qing from its sheath and taps his cheek with it, humming. “You understand me, Lan Zhan?” he asks, voice deceptively soft, dangerous. “You gave yourself to me. You know what that means.”
“I do,” Wangji says after he’s gotten his brain unscrambled with a lot of effort. “I’ll stay.”
His alpha’s smile is brighter than the sun. It hurts to look at. Wangji would gladly blind himself to see it every day for the rest of his life.
“Welcome home, Lan Zhan.”