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It happens much too quickly. One moment the night is calm and the sea gentle, sailors milling idly about deck, and the next there is chaos as the ship is buffeted violently by sudden waves. And then come the screams.
“It’s the Yiling Patriarch!”
But the shout comes a little too late.
Lan Wangji bursts out of his quarters to see the black ship that has risen out of the ocean depths, its tattered sails fluttering in the wind. There’s a jolt as the ships collide, the air torn open with the shrieking noise of metal on wood. Dark figures have already swarmed onto the royal vessel’s deck, with more crawling over the railings, others swinging over on ropes.
Some of them are deathly pallid, too sickly to merely be the effect of the silver moonlight, spidery marks creeping their way up their necks like cracks in a wall. The telltale marks of those who had drowned at sea laden with regrets, doomed to serve aboard the Patriarch's cursed ship until the end of days. It was said those unfortunate ones are mere husks of their former selves, shuffling corpse puppets to the legendary phantom's whims, but Lan Wangji sees their eyes are too bright, their movements too lively, for that to be true.
His eyes skim the chaos, latching onto a dark figure in the eye of the storm, a tall man with a heavy silver mask who is fighting four at once. A tasseled flute hangs from his belt.
“Get back!” Lan Wangji shouts, and his sailors obey immediately. The Patriarch meets his blade, a wild grin on his face.
“Good evening, your highness!”
Lan Wangji answers with several blows in quick succession, which the pirate counters with ease.
“Come now, your highness, there’s no need for such hostilities between us!” the Patriarch laughs, as their swords continue to clash. “I’m sure we can negotiate something.”
Lan Wangji narrows his eyes. “I do not make deals with pirates.”
“I’m sure you can make an exception,” the Patriarch says sweetly. He parries the prince’s attack gracefully as they whirl across the deck. “Here’s what I propose. Surrender! Let me take whatever I want, and I’ll let your crew go free. Not a hair harmed on any of their little heads. How does that sound?”
“And what is a pirate’s word worth?”
Another blow, though this time the pirate locks their blades together. They push against each other, trapped in a standstill.
“Why don’t you tell me?” The Patriarch smiles at him lazily and tilts his head. Lan Wangji follows his movement; through his periphery he sees his sailors are being cornered, disarmed, and corralled into place, swords at their throats. They are a small crew, far outnumbered by their assailants; even if they managed to break free they would be overwhelmed in moments.
Lan Wangji slowly lowers his sword, his mouth set in a tight line. The Patriarch’s smile widens into a crescent moon as he, too, lowers his weapon.
“There’s a good boy,” he says, a soft lilt to his voice. “I’m so glad we could come to an agreement.”
“Take what you want and leave,” Lan Wangji says coldly, chin held high. He doesn’t quite sneer– his uncle had taught him better than that– but he hopes the Patriarch can hear the contempt in his voice. Up this close he can see the whites of the pirate’s eyes, see the way his eyes roam up and down the length of his body. He resists the urge to step backwards when the Patriarch crowds closer, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.
They are too close for comfort. When the Patriarch laughs, Lan Wangji can feel the warmth of his breath against his ear.
“As you wish.”
And then the world is spinning, as Lan Wangji is grabbed and tossed over the Patriarch’s shoulder like a sack of flour. The pirate swings back onto his ship before Lan Wangji can begin to struggle in earnest. His sailors barely have time to begin shouting before the pirate ship is detracting the hooks that kept the royal vessel captive, disappearing into the ocean with her crew and captain and his freshly obtained cargo.
The Patriarch makes straight for the captain’s quarters, slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind him. Lan Wangji is tossed unceremoniously onto an ornate chair.
“What are you doing?” he demands as he struggles to sit up, his back throbbing painfully from where it had landed against the chair’s arm. “You gave me your word!”
“And what word was that? That I take what I want and leave?” the Patriarch drawls. He removes his mask and tosses it onto a table already crowded with an eclectic collection of items, revealing sun-kissed skin and dancing eyes. “I only did what I promised, your highness.”
Lan Wangji levels him with a glare that would have a lesser man quivering on his knees, but the pirate just continues to laugh at him. He strides forward and grabs Lan Wangji’s hand in a calloused, vice-like grip.
“So terribly sorry, your highness, I forgot to introduce myself,” the pirate says, sweeping into an exaggerated bow as he presses a sardonic kiss to the back of the prince’s hand. “The Yiling Patriarch at your service.”
Lan Wangji all but rips his hand away. “Do not touch me.”
The Patriarch’s eyes narrow. A moment later Lan Wangji finds both of his arms pinned above his head, wrists manacled in one of the Patriarch’s hands. In the other is a familiar white ribbon. Lan Wangji’s eyes widen.
“Give that back,” he snarls
“You’re in no position to be ordering anyone around, your highness,” the Patriarch drawls. Lan Wangji begins to struggle in earnest when he feels the cool silk slide against his wrists as the Patriarch binds him to the chair. But now matter how hard he struggles he can’t break free – the Lan royal family’s ribbons are sacred, tempered with magic, and can not be broken by most worldly things.
Anger and mortification boils red-hot beneath Lan Wangji’s skin. His family’s tradition dictated that their forehead ribbons were precious, not to be touched by anyone but family and spouses, and this pirate not only laid his undeserving hands on it, but dared to use it like common rope. The Patriarch seems amused by his anger, if the quirk of his lips is any indication.
He cups Lan Wangji’s face with his hand, running a thumb up the line of his jaw. "You look quite angry, your highness. Is this not comfortable enough for you?”
Lan Wangji casts his gaze away disdainfully, willing his infuriated heartbeat to slow. The Patriarch forcibly turns him back, tilting his face up so Lan Wangji has no choice but to look at him. His eyes are the grey of the storm clouds that blot out the horizon, of the choppy waves that sink fleets in droves.
“I didn’t know the Yiling Patriarch partook in ransoming,” Lan Wangji says icily, letting the disdain creep into his voice.
“Who said anything about ransoms?” the Patriarch says. He gestures grandly at the contents of his quarters, at the gleaming jewels and weapons and mystical items that litter every surface. Even the furnishings appear to be precious, perhaps also trophies from his plundering. “I have no need for money.”
His grip on Lan Wangji’s face tightens, and he leans closer so their faces are a mere inch apart, their mouths barely grazing.
“Priceless treasures,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across Lan Wangji’s lips, “Are far more worth my while.”
Lan Wangji bites him. The Patriarch jerks back with a yelp and frowns, wiping his hand across his mouth. It comes away smeared with red. Lan Wangji has barely a second to gloat before he is suddenly slammed back against the chair, the Patriarch’s hand clamped vice-like around his throat.
“That wasn’t very princely of you,” the Patriarch says reproachfully. Lan Wangji is silent, his throat fluttering beneath the Patriarch’s palm. The pirate scoffs and flexes his fingers in warning, tightening his grip, and Lan Wangji gasps.
“Behave for me,” the Patriarch says softly. He leans forward again, pressing his nose into inky black hair, and brushing his lip against the vulnerable skin of Lan Wangji’s neck. “Or else.”
The Patriarch releases his hand slowly, and Lan Wangji takes in a rattling breath. The pirate removes a knife from one of his many scabbards and slices open the sash that binds Lan Wangji’s robes together, yanking off his boots and trousers in quick succession. When Lan Wangji instinctively begins to struggle, he gets the knife tip pressed against the soft underside of his throat.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the Patriarch tuts, and Lan Wangji stills reluctantly. He lets himself get rearranged so his now bare legs are draped over the chair’s arms, hooked open, his modesty only barely hidden by his robes’ skirts.
“You are despicable,” Lan Wangji spits out as the Patriarch begins to bind his legs to the chair with rope, the coarse material digging into his thighs with the promise of red lines.
“Aren’t you sweet,” the Patriarch purrs as he yanks open the prince’s robes, silk tearing beneath his hands. “Ah, what’s this?”
The prince’s robes had fallen open to reveal a dark shadow against his skin, a dark undershirt that wasn’t the typical blue and white of the Lan royal family. Instead it is made of sheer black silk, hemmed with delicate red embroidery. The Patriarch pinches it between his fingers and tugs it up for a better look, and Lan Wangji catches the faint scent of gunpowder and lotus flowers that still cling to the fabric.
“Well!” the Patriarch laughs. He clenches the shirt tighter, tugging it up so Lan Wangji has no choice but to arch his back and follow. “I’d heard rumors that the Second Jade of Lan had finally wedded, but I didn’t think they were true! ”
He pauses, and chuckles again, his voice lowering into something richer, darker. He releases his grip, and Lan Wangji falls back against the chair. “And yet. What kind of man could bear to leave his pretty little husband all alone, with nothing but an undershirt to keep him company? What an ungrateful bastard. But it’s alright, your highness.” He skims his hand across one of Lan Wangji’s thighs, creeping up to where he’s most vulnerable, feeling the prince shudder from his touch. “At least I know how to properly appreciate treasure, especially one as rare as this.”
There’s a flash of silver. The undergarment falls open, revealing an expanse of pale skin. Before Lan Wangji can react the Patriarch is running his hands up his stomach, leaving a burning trail in his wake. He reaches up to tweak at a dusky nipple, pinching it between his fingers, and Lan Wangji yelps and jolts.
“You’re so sensitive,” the Patriarch notes gleefully. “Tell me, your highness, when was the last time your husband touched you?”
“My personal affairs are none of your business,” Lan Wangji says, struggling to keep his voice steady as the pirate continues to toy with his chest. The Patriarch sighs.
“Fair enough,” he says, nodding his head sagely. He reaches somewhere behind Lan Wangji. There is the sound of objects clinking against each other. “I was just curious!”
He sits back, a small ceramic jar in his hand. “I was wondering how much prep you’d need, if you needed it at all. But I see I must find the answer to that myself.”
Lan Wangji’s throat is suddenly dry, dreadfully so. He watches as the pirate pours oil over his hands, his fingers gleaming obscenely. In the back of his mind he knows he should be struggling, should not let this happen, and yet he finds himself helpless and drowning in the Patriarch’s fathomless gaze.
A hand comes up to tug roughly at his cock as a finger slides deftly inside him. Lan Wangji flinches, coming back to himself.
“Tch. Clearly your husband isn’t much to speak of, you’re much too tight,” the Patriarch says disdainfully. “He isn’t fucking you the way you deserve, is he?”
He slips another finger in, smirking at the way Lan Wangji bites his lip.
“Silence,” Lan Wangji hisses between clenched teeth. “He is a better man than you will ever be.”
“Maybe so,” the Patriarch concedes. “But can he fuck you better than I can?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer. The fingers inside him fuck into him roughly and prod against that spot that has him biting back a wail, massaging it insistently. Lan Wangji’s cock lays engorged and weeping against his stomach, betraying him.
The Patriarch’s eyes glitter. He wraps a calloused hand around Lan Wangji’s length, tugging at it roughly.
“Tell, me, your highness,” he says conversationally as Lan Wangji squirms helplessly beneath him, leaking copiously into his hand, “Are you upset that I’m going to fuck you, or upset that you want me to?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. He’s afraid of what will come out if he opens his mouth now. He trembles silently, overwhelmed by the dry warmth of the Patriarch’s hand and the burn of the fingers stretching him open.
“Have you no words for me, hmm?” the pirate says sweetly. “No matter. I have plenty of experience prying things open to get what I want.”
The Patriarch removes his fingers, but before Lan Wangji can relax or mourn their absence, he feels the blunt head of the pirate’s cock rub against his entrance.
“No, please don’t–” The words are strangled in his throat. The prince thrashes, his restraints biting into his skin. “Stop–!”
“Please don’t stop ?” the Patriarch repeats mockingly, his voice dripping with honey. Fingers dig into the flesh of Lan Wangji’s thighs, bruise-like. “As my prince commands.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t know what noise he makes when he’s ruthlessly speared open. His mouth falls open as his vision blurs, his nerves suddenly ablaze. The Patriarch laughs above him delightedly as he fucks into him, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh almost as thunderous as Lan Wangji’s heartbeat in his ears.
“Aren’t you a faithless little thing.” the Patriarch purrs as he leans forward, burying his face into the length of Lan Wangji’s neck. “What would your precious husband say if he saw you like this, nmm? He’d take notes, I hope.”
Lan Wangji gasps, shuddering violently as he’s pounded into. The Patriarch laughs cruelly, and he whines at the feeling of skin breaking against teeth as the pirate leaves blooming bites wherever he pleases.
“You’re so needy,” he says wondrously. “You don’t care who fucks you, do you, so long as you get your fill of cock? You little slut.”
A particularly hard thrust forces Lan Wangji to climax, his mind wiped white as pleasure arcs through his body. The Patriarch curses as he seizes up around him, flooding Lan Wangji’s insides with warmth. When he’s finished he pulls away, leaving Lan Wangji lying there, legs still bound open, the Patriarch’s spend dripping obscenely out of where he’s ruined and sore. The prince can barely keep his eyes open, weighed down by the tears dripping from his eyelashes.
He feels something get placed on his head, yelps as something is clamped onto his nipples. And then there’s something cold and large and hard pressing against his puffy entrance, splitting him open suddenly.
He’s unable to stop the moan that leaves his lips. The Patriarch smirks and pulls the phallus out slightly, only to shove it back in.
All Lan Wangji can muster is a teary-eyed glare. The pirate stands up and moves away, returning with an ornate mirror held between his hands. He comes to a stop before Lan Wangji. The prince closes his eyes and looks away, shame coiling in his belly.
“Look,” the Patriarch says softly. “Or I’ll make you.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Lan Wangji opens his eyes to see his reflection staring back at him teary-eyed, a circlet of gold, encrusted in precious stones the color of blood, resting haphazardly on his bed, his nipples cinched tight with equally ornate jewels. He sees blooming marks on his thighs, his neck, his chest; the ruined black undershirt stained with his release. And between his legs is his spent cock and the hulking phallus splitting him open, keeping the Patriarch’s seed inside him, white streaks dripping down dark stone.
Instinctively Lan Wangji tries to close his legs, but to no avail. His legs are weak and the bindings are too strong, rubbing raw against his skin. The Patriarch chuckles.
“Maybe I’ll send your husband my regards,” he murmurs. A hand comes to grasp Lan Wangji’s chin, turning his face this way and that, as if to let the Patriarch admire him from every angle. A thumb wipes gently at a trail of tears running down his cheek. “Send you back to him like this, dressed in my treasures, filled with my spend. Who knows, maybe he’ll even thank me.”
Before Lan Wangji can respond– with what he doesn’t know– the Patriarch kisses him, deep and slow, plundering the prince’s mouth with his tongue.
“But I don’t think I will,” the Patriarch says against his lips. “Finders, keepers, after all.”
Lan Wangji wakes up to the smell of the ocean breeze and the feeling of being gently rocked into, in tandem to the waves buffeting the ship. In the darkness he makes out a shape moving above him, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the cabin.
“Wei Ying?”
His husband pouts down at him. “Not Wei Ying, remember? I’m the Yiling Patriarch, who has stolen you away!”
Lan Wangji hums, still sleepy and sore and pleasure-drunk. He runs his fingers down Wei Wuxian’s face, cupping his cheek.
“You didn’t need to frighten my crew like that,” he says somewhat reproachfully, though he wraps his legs around his husband’s waist. “It was unnecessary.”
Wei Wuxian pouts harder. “I didn’t hurt any of them!” he all but whines, burying his face into Lan Wangji’s chest. “And besides, I’ll have you back before dawn– it’ll be like you never left.”
Lan Wangji hums again, if a bit disbelievingly, and smiles. His husband’s enthusiasm is incredibly infectious, and it would be a lie to say he didn’t thoroughly enjoy their outlandish bedroom games.
“I see,” he says, sighing as Wei Wuxian moves his hips. “I’ve missed you, Wei Ying.”
His husband looks down at him, a rueful smile on his lips. But before he can say anything Lan Wangji tilts his head up to and slides their lips together.
“There is no need for apologies between us,” he says firmly, pressing his hand gently to the sun-shaped brand above his husband’s heart, as he settles back against ample cushions. He raises an elegant eyebrow meaningfully. “It appears I will be in your care for the rest of the night. What does the Yiling Patriarch plan to do with me now?”
His husband chuckles lowly, helplessly.
“What does anyone do with something precious?” Wei Wuxian says, He drags a finger up Lan Wangji’s chest, tapping the tip of his nose teasingly. “Treasure you, of course.”