Chapter Text
“We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.”
-Song of Achilles-
Madeline Miller
~
Jiang Cheng isn’t sure when it started but he’s become all too aware that his eyes tend to track and follow where Wei Wuxian leads. He also isn’t too clear on what to do with this bit of information, or why it matters to him enough to have realized it in the first place. However, he does know it now and is honestly less bothered by it than he would have once assumed, which is strange enough on its own. In fact, he thinks what does bother him about this revelation is how unbothered he feels by it. Again, this strikes him as a bit on the odd side.
For years now Wei Wuxian has been a pain in his ass and a constant source of headaches. He embodies the essence of being a bother entirely from the hair on his head down to his toes. The way he saunters around all loud-mouthed with toothy smiles, shamelessly flirting and charming his way through the maidens of Yunmeng and the other disciples loitering Lotus Pier’s training grounds. The manner with which he fawns over a’jie and earns praises from a’die - he can keep the yelling and berating he receives from a’niang for himself. Everything about Wei Wuxian screams at Jiang Cheng, rankles his nerves and, the worst yet, tugs at that small spot at the backside of his heart that warms for him. Truly, it is no wonder at all why Wei Wuxian irritates him endlessly as he does.
So, then, why is it that Jiang Cheng can’t stop himself from looking at him or for him?
The question seethes through him and, for all he is worth, Jiang Cheng hates it so fucking much. He doesn’t want to think about it any more than he wants to think about why he doesn’t want to think about it. It’s just another way for Wei Wuxian to make his temples throb and grind away at his limited patience. The bastard. He’s gone and found a way to provoke Jiang Cheng without having to be present (and doubly so when he is) and if that isn’t more than enough to fuel the fire of his frustration he isn’t sure what else could.
Except, perhaps, the way his eyes are following Wei Wuxian as he arcs across the training grounds in a mock fight with two of their shidi. He makes for quite a sight, having grown hot in the heat of the summer sun and stripped off his robes. His sun-kissed skin is beaded with sweat and the sight of it paired with the determined ferocity of his face is an image Jiang Cheng errantly thinks belongs on a page of one of Wei Wuxian’s indecent art books.
He’s likely to be whipped for the show of skin later, Jiang Cheng knows, but he also knows full well that Wei Wuxian is used to skirting the rules and smiling through the punishment. Jiang Cheng has often wondered if there is something wrong with Wei Wuxian’s brain, some fuse that has been blown apart and made a shamble of his thinking, for him to enjoy such things. He refuses, most adamantly, to think that there is something amiss in his own brain for being slightly envious of the carefree frivolity that laces every one of his actions.
Wei Wuxian, in all the glory of his title as their top disciple, does a complicated move that is more footwork than swordsmanship to dodge a coming joint attack from both sides. His maneuverability is impressive and the move manages to not only allow him to slip between their two coordinated jabs, but to also pivot on his heel to duck behind one’s back and shove him forward. It ends with the two shidi bearing wrapped blades at each other’s throats and Wei Wuxian whoop ing his victory.
From his place leaning against the side of one of Lotus Pier's plentiful halls, Jiang Cheng watches Wei Wuxian launch himself at the two he'd been fighting with, hooking his arms over their shoulders. He musses the hair of the younger one with his free hand, Suibian clutched carelessly in the other and swinging about with the flurry of gesturing Wei Wuxian does when he speaks. The blade is wrapped in cloth and therefore doesn't pose a threat and yet something about the sight of it unsettles Jiang Cheng. At least he tells himself that the heat in his blood and flare of irritation stems solely from seeing Wei Wuxian thoughtlessly handling a high quality spiritual weapon (again) and definitely has nothing to do with him being shirtless and wrapped around other men.
Other men. It’s a funny enough thought, as if Wei Wuxian should be wrapped around a man at all let alone a specific one only. Jiang Cheng resolutely ignores and tamps back the sudden tide of intensity he feels wash over him. Sudden and still expected; something he has felt more and more frequently as of late, when he’s left alone in his thoughts regarding Wei Wuxian. He thinks about him too much lately, too avid and flustered by the mere presence of him in his life and by his side. He thinks especially of him by his side and how it feels right and comfortable, and then he’ll feel that surging wave of emotion that he can’t name when the implications of those thoughts strike through him.
He doesn’t enjoy these feelings, doesn’t enjoy that he’s preoccupied and has his attention so thoroughly stolen by Wei Wuxian of all people. Though there is something that swims at the back of his mind, a voice that both sounds like his own and like someone freer and more assured, which whispers to him that of course it is Wei Wuxian that swallows his focus. Who else would it ever be?
Jiang Cheng never pays much mind to that seedy voice, instead trapping it in the recesses of his mind to be pushed down and slowly seep out again over time. It’s a routine at this point: think mildly alarming thoughts about Wei Wuxian, summon forth the voice with the swelling tide of whatever it is that burns through him at such times, lock it down, repeat.
Every now and then he has the torturous idea of letting that voice sink into him and smother him, if only to let himself make some sense of these things that he’s feeling.
The way it burns across him and leaves his skin pinkened and hot paired with the inability to look anyone in the eyes - especially Wei Wuxian - when it flushes through him all lend to the idea of desire. He’s not the most knowledgeable of emotive understanding, that’s more a’jie’s point of genius than his, but Jiang Cheng thinks he knows himself well enough to know at least this.
Across the grounds the disciples are dispersing, the time for training having come to an end as other lessons and activities call for them. Jiang Cheng stays at his post against the wall, nodding in acknowledgment as a few pass him as they enter the hall. Only a few spare him the odd lingering glance, likely wondering what he’s doing just standing there and doing nothing. Jiang Cheng isn’t known for idling, but it also isn’t anything he thinks is too unusual for him to be taking a moment to himself. Most especially so if he’s trying to avoid a’niang.
Jiang Cheng can tell the instant that Wei Wuxian spies him. It’s an inexplicable thing, the way that the hair on his neck stands to attention and his skin feels like Zidian is breaching it with the currents of electricity that are rippling beneath. He looks in the direction of the training grounds, and even at this distance he can make out the grey storm clouds that live in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Wei Wuxian grins at him, taking note of the attention he’s getting and preening as he is prone to do, and then beckons Jiang Cheng over to him.
Ever a fucking fool, Jiang Cheng acquiesces and steps out from his shadowy guard and into the glaring heat of the grounds. Each of his steps are slow, methodical, and altogether unhurried just to pull at the ends of Wei Wuxian’s impatience.
“Jiang Cheng!” he whines, toeing at the ground with his boot.”You’re so slow! No wonder you’re never able to top me. Yu-fu’ren would be red in the face if she could see the pace you’re going now.” He’s saying all this while standing there, bare skin glowing in the midday sun and grinning widely. Suibian, still wrapped, is shoved neatly into the ground as he leans on it as one would a post and Jiang Cheng wants to knock it away and watch him fall on his ass.
The words stick to him rather than rolling off of his shoulders like they usually would. There’s something in the phrasing, in the lilting tease that curls the tone of Wei Wuxian’s voice, something about the heat of the day that stirs it all up. “If you value your legs, stop talking.” Jiang Cheng snaps back, glaring as he stands in front of Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian looks him over, eyes raking down and back up. It's nothing worth being alarmed over, yet Jiang Cheng feels as if he's on display and it settles under his skin uncomfortably, making him itch. His eyes meet Wei Wuxian's once he's finished his assessment and finds a spark lighting up in the grey depths and making them shine like silver in the sunlight.
"Let's spar, Chengcheng."
"Don't call me that." Jiang Cheng wants to hit him for his stupid nickname, no sparring necessary.
Wei Wuxian straightens up and swings Suibian behind him in a wide arc, bringing the blade up to rest along the back of his neck and hitching his free hand over the tip of it. If the blade weren’t wrapped so tightly in gauzy cotton he would have lost both his wrist and his head and the thought makes Jiang Cheng pause, a cold plume of concern bursting across his lungs. He shakes it away as soon as Wei Wuxian leans forward, bending at the waist to invade Jiang Cheng’s personal space and peer up at his face, the shadows framing his features in mischief and anticipation alike. The smile on his face is bestial and wide enough to make the subtle dimples at the corners of his mouth become prominent.
Jiang Cheng hates it so much. Mostly because this smile makes him feel vulnerable and like Wei Wuxian could coax him into anything and the implications packed into it are enough to make his head spin.
He's seen this particular grin more times than he can count, and each time has always preceded something either indecent or troublesome. It startles him to realize he isn't sure which he's hoping for this time.
Wei Wuxian is magnetic and there are times when Jiang Cheng feels he is an ore, caught firmly in the pull of his attraction.
Jiang Cheng stares at him blandly, doing his utmost to mask the swirl of his thoughts and the fever pitch of his blood surging with interest. "The stakes?" he questions, knowing without doubt that if Wei Wuxian is angling to spar that his intentions run deeper. They've not sparred for the sake of practice in years, making it instead into a game. They gamble with their honor and merits, sharpening each other's swords and skills with their desire to best and beat one another. The victor gets both the spoils of knowing they're the best and, when they're feeling particularly giving, a favor heeded without protest. So far, Wei Wuxian has three favors tucked away for his use and Jiang Cheng has two.
"No stakes, not this time," Wei Wuxian says smoothly, standing back to full attention and stretching out his back. Jiang Cheng pointedly looks anywhere but at the shifting muscles of his bare abdomen and arms. Once satisfied with his loosened muscles, he unwraps Suibian and tucks the cotton into his waistband, the white of it stark against the black fabric of his pants and the tan of his skin.
Suspicion colors Jiang Cheng's senses, sounding an alarm at the lack of motive driving Wei Wuxian's want to fight. Having just claimed a win over a two-to-one mock should have fluffed his ego enough that he’d usually be disinterested in having a go with Jiang Cheng and wave him away with a flippant claim of his skills not being enough of a challenge or some other line of bullshit. Sparring is common enough for them, but only when Wei Wuxian wants something or is trying to prove something Jiang Cheng doesn’t see the point of when there’s not anyone challenging his title or position. There are the times that he refuses in order to spare Jiang Cheng the humiliation and lecture he gets for the losses that are either seen by or reported to a’niang, but those go unmentioned when they occur.
Rather than ask about it, Jiang Cheng merely steps back and unsheathes Sandu. They both prefer bare bladed practices when they fight each other; enjoy the collision of the two vastly different glares of the swords and the metallic ting of Sandu and Suibian crossing. There is also a mutual confidence in the other’s abilities that earns them both the peace of mind from having to worry about holding back to keep from accidentally cutting each other down like when they fight with the others. Wei Wuxian may be faster but Jiang Cheng swings down harder, making their battles one of speed versus force.
Getting into position Jiang Cheng rolls his neck and shoulders to loosen up a bit before brandishing Sandu towards Wei Wuxian. He’s still standing there, maddeningly carefree and nonplussed just smiling at Jiang Cheng and watching for his moment to strike. “Come on then, will you? Weren’t you just rushing me only moments ago?”
Wei Wuxian, the absolute irritation that he enjoys being, simply shrugs one of his shoulders and the motion is so fluid and relaxed that it makes Jiang Cheng’s shambled patience snap. He charges forward, raising Sandu into a high and fast arc, bringing her down roughly the moment he’s within a step of Wei Wuxian. Faster than he would believe if he hadn’t seen it himself Suibian twists up between their bodies and blocks the blow in a clash of red and violet glares.
Their eyes meet between the blades, grey eyes teasing and gleaming with a wicked light making wisteria glint with unbridled aggravation. Jiang Cheng counts it in his head, the three moves it would take for him to overpower Wei Wuxian from this position and into submission, can see it in his mind’s eye as clearly as he can see Wei Wuxian in front of him. He adjusts his grip on Sandu’s hilt, about to make that first step forward to force himself further into Wei Wuxian’s space, when his line of sight fills with Wei Wuxian’s face getting closer. He’s leaning into the dangerously small opening in the crux of their swords and the look on his face is enigmatic.
Before he can think to pull away, Jiang Cheng feels familiar pressure on his lips. It’s a hint of a kiss, too fleeting to be fully taken in as anything more than a brush of Wei Wuxian’s mouth against his. But it’s enough to distract Jiang Cheng, giving Wei Wuxian the opening to drive Suibian into Sandu and fling her out of his grasp. She clatters noisily to the ground and Jiang Cheng winces but otherwise pays no mind as Wei Wuxian sweeps his leg out and under Jiang Cheng’s own, knocking him to the dirt. He follows after, straddling Jiang Cheng’s hips and pinning him down.
“That was a dirty tactic.”
Wei Wuxian smiles just as blood drips and beads at his chin, having nicked his jaw on one of their swords. “Are you complaining?” He asks, voice as heady as his body feels.
Suibian is pressed against Jiang Cheng’s throat, the weight of it present enough to be wary yet not forceful enough to be a threat. Swallowing, his adam’s apple bobs beneath its sharp edge and the feel of it is a jolt across each of Jiang Cheng’s nerves. “Have I ever? But you can’t count the win if you’re going to cheat with cheap distractions.”
These are the wrong words to say. Or, depending on how he looks at it, the right ones. Wei Wuxian leans over him and presses Suibian even further into the frail skin of Jiang Cheng’s throat, stopping mere centimeters from his face and just as he’s about to actually draw blood. “Cheap, was it?” he whispers, breath fanning out over Jiang Cheng’s lips. “Should this shixiong correct that for his shidi?” His eyes are drilling into Jiang Cheng’s own, the grey of them shot through with the abundance of pupil.
No further words fall between them before Wei Wuxian is sealing his mouth over Jiang Cheng’s. His lips are a bit dry from being exposed to the sun and wind but no less soft, tasting of sweat and salt. They press with insistence and Jiang Cheng can only let himself be kissed breathless, his lips moving with an equal fervor in tandem with Wei Wuxian.
It’s an occurrence that has been happening with more and more frequency of late, this exploration of mouths and lips. The first had been in a similar instance as this with Jiang Cheng pinned beneath Wei Wuxian here on the training grounds, panting and irritated at the loss. He’d been glaring at Wei Wuxian, ready to buck him off so that he could stand and dust the dirt from his robes, when Wei Wuxian had pressed a quick and chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. He’d then jumped up and offered his hand to help Jiang Cheng to his feet, laughing at the wide-eyed expression of shock still painting his face. “Call it a trade, okay Chengcheng?” he’d said before walking off towards Swords Hall.
Ever since, and after Jiang Cheng had managed to remember he should be an active participant, they’d sometimes find ways to steal kisses from each other. On a night hunt in the hills of Yunmeng and away from the watchful eyes of a’niang or a’die; the training grounds when they were deserted and the chance of a stray disciple walking by was low enough to risk it; that time at the dock when it’d been much too late for swimming but Wei Wuxian had convinced him they wouldn’t get caught. Nearly a year’s worth of secret kissing, each so different from the last.
This kiss follows the precedent of the others; its nature differing entirely, more heated and ruthless than any before it. Jiang Cheng can barely keep up with the way Wei Wuxian sweeps across him, his tongue seeking out the welcoming warmth of his open mouth. He lets Wei Wuxian set the pace, settling his hands at either side of his hips and trying his best to ignore the way his fingers drag over bare skin. He’s still very aware and mindful of Suibian at his throat and idly wonders if Wei Wuxian intends to hold it there for the duration of this frenzied kiss. It shouldn't thrill him to consider that he will, he thinks.
Wei Wuxian’s tongue flicks across the roof of his mouth and the moan it rips out of Jiang Cheng’s throat is damning. He isn’t one to be very vocal during these sessions of theirs, not when it could attract attention and unwelcome interruption, but this kiss is overbearing and licking fire into his blood. One of his hands digs hard into Wei Wuxian’s hip and squeezes while the other trails up his back, blunt nails scraping along his warm skin. He starts, jerking forward from the touch and just barely managing to catch his hand from pressing Suibian further into Jiang Cheng’s throat, breath catching as he pulls out of the kiss to sit up. Retracting his arm,Wei Wuxian haplessly tosses Suibian to the side where it falls alongside Sandu, the sound loud and clanging in the quiet of the grounds.
Above him, Wei Wuxian’s chest is heaving with the effort to breathe and with the sun bright behind him he’s cast in an ethereal glow. Wild tail of dark hair ruffled by the slight breeze and sharp features obscured by the shadows he himself casts; Jiang Cheng once again is struck by the idea that Wei Wuxian belongs to the pages of his erotic artbooks. His gaze is heavy, hazy, heated, and he’s looking right into Jiang Cheng’s eyes and yet through him all the same. From his place below and pinned between his knees, Jiang Cheng feels more on display than ever like he is the one that is half naked.
When he next speaks, Wei Wuxian’s voice is dripping and molten. “Chengcheng, has this shixiong made proper amends for his cheap tricks?”
“What’s proper about you even when you’re not like this?” Jiang Cheng fires off, voice thick and stuck the back of his throat. “What sort of apology is made with your sword at my throat? Again, and this time do it right.” He can feel as his face brims with heat, cheeks filling out in pink which spreads low into his neck.
The smirk that slings across Wei Wuxian’s kiss-swollen lips is feral and edged in dark promise as he nods once, the action crisp. “As shidi wants,” he murmurs and delves back in to kiss Jiang Cheng soundly.
This time the kiss unfurls immediately into a spit-slick battle of tongues and dominance which Jiang Cheng intends to win. His hand retraces its journey up Wei Wuxian’s bare back, fingers dipping between the grooves of his spine, before threading in his hair. Wei Wuxian’s breath stutters into his mouth and Jiang Cheng feels smug, enjoying the reaction as he always does. Emboldened, he circles his hips up, rolling them into Wei Wuxian’s and eliciting a cry that his mouth captures.
They’re both half-mast, hormones having already been singing through their blood with adrenaline and anticipation for, first, a fight and then each other. Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that Wei Wuxian almost gets hard from fighting with him alone, no other stimulation needed, because he had told him as much during their last real spar. At the time, Jiang Cheng hadn’t thought much of it aside from the initial flood of aroused interest that came with being barraged by such bold words being casually slipped into conversation between jabs of their swords. After, when they were safely away from the training field and a’niang’s observation, Jiang Cheng had pinned him to the wall of a deep alcove and felt the truth of it himself. It’d been the first time he had ever touched Wei Wuxian so intimately, the first time a cock other than his own had been grasped in his hand.
He'd spilled over Jiang Cheng's hand and the sight of it had been exquisite. His expression was that of fervent bliss, vulnerable and open in it's passion. It'd left Jiang Cheng feeling electric and more alive than he'd ever known, powerfully intoxicated on Wei Wuxian.
Jiang Cheng has wanted it since, replaying the searing sight of Wei Wuxian undone by his hand whenever he is alone in his bed at night. It had only been a few weeks and yet his body craved for it; wanting to see more, touch more. To have the chance literally in his hands now is quite a fortunate turn of a rather drawn out and boring day.
The hand he has on Wei Wuxian’s hip slips lower, dipping into the hem of his pants and pawing at the curve of his ass just as he bucks his hips up to rut his cock against the side of his thigh. Both he and Wei Wuxian groan, overcome with the sensation and pressure. He knows what he’s doing in theory, but lacking any practical experience beyond having his hand down Wei Wuxian’s pants last time and what he knows he likes to do to himself, there's a lack of finesse to his actions. However, he knows what he wants to try; Wei Wuxian has lent him books with certain pages of interest dog-eared which Jiang Cheng also found captivating. Each carefully detailed scene had filled his head with endless ideas and imaginings of having Wei Wuxian on his knees with his mouth open wide just waiting for Jiang Cheng's cock; Wei Wuxian naked and writhing below him.
Right now, though, he'll settle for making him gasp and come apart with his hand again.
He bites at Wei Wuxian’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and pulling out a whine from the back of his throat. Jiang Cheng has no intention of letting him set the pace for this kiss like he’d been allowed the last, not when Jiang Cheng is this hard and lost to his desire.
The span of a breath being taken to soothe his aching lungs and burning throat is the only reprieve Jiang Cheng is willing to give to Wei Wuxian before he pushes enough of his trousers down to get his cock free. It’s flushed red at the tip, needy and weeping already and the sight makes Jiang Cheng burn to know Wei Wuxian is this worked up from so little, all for him. “Wei Wuxian, tell me, are you so easy that just this much attention has you so sensitive?” His voice is dark, permeated with every bit of lust which threads his being, thick and pitched low as it is.
Wei Wuxian keens, the sound high and reedy, as Jiang Cheng thumbs at the slit of his dick. He leans back and sits astride him, eyes locked tight and brow knitted with the force of his arousal. His hips are making soft rolls, circling forward to find friction and relief. He’s absolutely breathtaking like this; ragged and wretched, and at the mercy of Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng moves his hand down and over the length of him, slow and dragging to watch the range of reactions that rain across Wei Wuxian’s face. He’s always been the most expressive person in Jiang Cheng’s life; to see it utilized in such a way as this, with every fleeting and flickering pass of his hand rippling through his features, is something he had never imagined. Wei Wuxian is plausibly the person he is closest with and yet never knows which side of him will be presented, most especially now that he has unveiled this new wanton side of him. Their dynamic has always been one that hinges on their resolute trust and reliance on one another, though not one that necessarily meant they understand each other. This addition to their kinship is likely one that will only further murk the waters between them, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t think that is necessarily enough to warn against wherever this development might lead.
Having recovered some of his senses, Wei Wuxian makes a grab from Jiang Cheng’s hand and stills it. Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow, ready to snap off some complaining accusation or other when he lifts that hand to his mouth and licks a wet strip over his palm. His eyes have parted from their pleasured crease, unwavering as they stare down at Jiang Cheng while his tongue dances over the palm of his hand. Wei Wuxian takes his time getting his hand nice and saturated before lowering it back to his cock, the slide of it much smoother with the slick of his spit. Jiang Cheng groans, enjoying the glide even more than before.
He pulls Wei Wuxian down for another hot press of lips, a kiss so searing Jiang Cheng wonders if it might dissolve him into the dirt beneath him. But just as quickly Wei Wuxian pushes away from the kiss and before Jiang Cheng can properly bitch at him for it he’s yanking his pants down too and leaving them to bunch around his thighs. His cock bounces free of the restraint, glistening in the sunlight and angrily swollen with neglect. It’s new and ecstatic; the sensation so bold and hot, charging volts of electricity beneath his skin.
For a wild moment Jiang Cheng isn’t certain what Wei Wuxian intends to do with him; just look at him heavy in his hand? Stroke him? It isn’t until Wei Wuxian rolls himself forward and drags his own cock to slot side by side with Jiang Cheng’s own that he understands. Wei Wuxian spits in his hand, the action and sound a bit jarring given their proximity but then his hand is encompassing both of them. Wei Wuxian grasps the firmly, a groan wrenching out of him as he glides his hand over their cocks, pushing himself up on his knees and falling, grinding into Jiang Cheng.
It’s too much and not nearly enough all at once; the heat of Wei Wuxian pressed against him like this with his hips - fuck, his hips - slanted evenly against Jiang Cheng’s and his dick - fuck, fuck, fuck - alongside his own and jerking with it. Wei Wuxian’s hand makes easy enough work in it’s grip and glide, guiding them both as he continues to work his hips forward into Jiang Cheng.
“Like that?” Wei Wuxian questions like he expect Jiang Cheng to be fucking capable of speech and words and shit.
Instead of speaking, because he really doubts his capability right now, Jiang Cheng just nods helplessly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, right? Didn’t he want to be the one in control and taking Wei Wuxian for a ride rather than this turnabout where he was at the beck and call of Wei Wuxian’s thrusts? He wants to be mad about it, really he does, but his mind numbs at the bliss and with it so does his irritation.
Wei Wuxian leans over him and braces an arm beside his head to make use of the leverage and sets a disjointed pace which only manages to key the both up. “Thrust into it with me,” he rasps into Jiang Cheng’s ear and Jiang Cheng aquiesces with nary a word or grumble about being told what to do despite himself. His hips thrust up and punch a deep moan from him, the sound dredging up from his core and carrying outward in a long and embarrassing drawl.
He’s lost to it all; to the drag of Wei Wuxian’s hand, his spit between them, the way his cock curves wickedly against his own, and ultimately the feel of their precum dripping together in white ribbons. He wants - no, needs - more traction and somehow before he can even voice it, Wei Wuxian fucking knows and is grabbing his shoulder with his fee hand. He pulls Jiang Cheng up and forward, uses his bare fucking chest to press him back into leaning back on his arm which has been propped behind him. Once satisfied with the new position Wei Wuxian rocks forward harder and the change to the angle is overwhelming, tearing at Jiang Cheng’s senses and ensnaring him into a slow and dedicated thrust.
Over him, Wei Wuxian cries out. The sound is loud in the quiet din of the training field and Jiang Cheng, for only an instant, thrills upon the idea of being found and seen amidst the glory of being the one and only to produce such a sound from Wei Wuxian. It’s a short lived moment of depravity, rectified in the next instant when Wei Wuxian ducks his head down to get an even better angle than this, hand still jerking between them and pants hot and heavy into his ear. He turns his head and bites, teeth digging into the lobe of Jiang Cheng’s ear and tugging harshly as his breath falls heavier and heavier.
“Again,” Jiang Cheng chokes out and he whines when he does so, teeth sharp enough to evoke neat pinpricks of pain that blur into the pleasure of Wei Wuxian thumbing at the head of his cock. Gods above, Jiang Cheng is on fire and yet still doesn’t feel it is enough despite the delicious friction of Wei Wuxian’s coarse and rough-worn hand making it difficult to think.
It’s new and so, so, so damn good to have both the feeling of his hand and his cock enveloping his needy dick. Wei Wuxian is spoiling him, ruining any sense he might have left and Jiang Cheng is left coasting in the throes of bliss. It swells like a tide in his lower half, rising and rising and choking him on the tendrils of it that manage to stand tall enough to reach up into his throat and deprive him of air, making him gasp. Wei Wuxian kisses him and it proves too much, the tide cresting over shores violently as he comes.
It takes him several moments of dark vision and blurry mindfulness before he realizes that Wei Wuxian, whom hadn’t ceased rutting and grinding and jerking Jiang Cheng’s cock as it spilled and spilled, is making garbled noises of ecstasy as he ,too, peaks. When he does become alert enough, he is only too aware of the boneless feeling in his body which radiates outward from his core. Next to be known and felt is the stable weight of Wei Wuxian astride him and still trembling with the aftershocks of his own orgasm, fallen forward and slumping against his chest.
Jiang Cheng runs a hand down the length of his back and takes in the dew of his skin, the trembling which is ever present in his muscles. He isn’t too sure what he should do other than maintain the soothing comfort of his hand making trails along his spine and wait for him to recover. His other hand brushes through Wei Wuxian’s dark hair, snagging and loosening the tangles hidden within the thick whisk of it.
They stay like this for a while until even after the shocks that had been coursing through him have passed and Jiang Cheng is once more struck with the encompassing feeling he tends to avoid for fear of being swallowed whole. It seeps into him slowly this time, starting in his chest and then creeping through his veins into his fingertips and leaving them numb before fanning further out into his legs where he has since bent them in to cradle Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng batters against the static of the nameless emotion, hammering it out of his pores where it seems to want to cling, and ultimately forcing it back down to crackling warmth lingering in his veins.
Wei Wuxian stirs finally, seeming to regain himself and pushing off of Jiang Cheng’s chest to straddle him once more. He blinks a couple times, the grey of his eyes back to its regular bright sheen rather than the pitch of before, and then looks between them where the combined essence of them both stains across his pants and the edge of Jiang Cheng’s violet robes. Their cocks are soft and satiated and Wei Wuxian is gentle when he tucks them each back after doing his best to clean them up.
When he makes to stand and offers his hand to Jiang Cheng and help him to his feet, Jiang Cheng peers at him with an unspoken curiosity he is unsure of how to voice. How does one act after such indecency, especially so with one’s martial brother and sworn ally? Jiang Cheng is altogether unsure and is content to leave things quiet and buzzing only with the undercurrents of their mutual haze. He dust himself off and trots to where Sandu lays discarded and solemn, sheathes her and fastens her to his belt now that it is once again in place. Wei Wuxian watches him momentarily before doing the same with Suibian, turning to him once the task is finished.
“Jiang Cheng, let’s not make too much of a fuss about this, okay? We just got caught in a heated moment, alright?”
He isn’t sure whether Wei Wuxian is saying this for his sake or his own but, either way it’s regarded won’t change what has transpired or the impression of it in Jiang Cheng’s mind. He doesn’t think it will be at all possible for him to look upon Wei Wuxian without seeing the face he makes when he comes, without knowing the traction of their cocks rubbing together. But if Wei Wuxian doesn’t wish to make an ordeal of it and carry on with their days as if nothing happened here on the grounds, then so be it.
“Sure, who would even want to remember such a thing?” He says it with the expected vigor of discontent that he’s positive Wei Wuxian wants to hear and ignores the pang that shoots through him for the effort.