Chapter Text
He’s staring again.
Those golden eyes never leave Wei Ying, even in his dreams. They haunt him especially under the cover of the night, in the shimmering darkness where the only thing that makes sense is a pair of wandering hands, and soft lip kisses tracing down past his neck. Thanks to the blindfold that graces his eyes everytime without fail, Wei Ying may see nothing but pitch-black, but his body feels so much more. His wanton hips squirming underneath every touch of his thick fingers, his thighs trembling in deranged ecstasy at the very idea of being ravaged by his handsome stranger…
And, oh, last night. Last night was… new. His aggressor was even more impatient than usual, even more violent, rough, experimental. He’d been in such a mood, insisting on trying something they hadn’t ever done before. Stiff hard ropes bound Wei Ying’s hands together, while his two small feet were strapped tight to two different ends of the bedposts. Even till now, Wei Ying feels the ache throbbing painfully in his wrists. The aftermath of his shy little boyfriend’s play had left raw and stinging indentations on Wei Ying’s delicate skin, ones that Wei Ying had taken care to hide by throwing a long-sleeved hoodie over himself and donning high socks for class this morning.
His class, of course; as ironic as it was.
Lan Wangji’s class.
Wei Ying stifles a yawn as he takes his usual seat in the lecture hall, while rubbing absent-mindedly at the side of his neck. The ghastly-looking red hand prints that had been left there two nights ago when Lan Wangji choked him right into his release were almost gone now, to his relief. Or disappointment? Wei Ying doesn’t really know. Lan Wangji sure loved to leave physical evidence of their night trysts on Wei Ying’s body, as if desperate to carve his very existence into Wei Ying’s skin. As if wanting to make sure that Wei Ying would remember him, even after he is long gone and absent from his bed. As though hoping to deter any other vultures—men—from preying on Wei Ying, like he did; to send a loud and damning clear warning that this one is taken, and taken for good.
Wei Ying thinks Lan Wangji is silly, perhaps even overly young and childish in his actions despite his big age. Possession to this degree? Was it really that necessary? Did Lan Wangji really not understand such a thing by now?
Wei Ying can only ever be satisfied by the likes of him—and no one else.
Eh, he’ll forgive Lan-laoshi for his over-the-top delusions only because he’s so cute.
Still, Wei Ying would be lying if he said he didn’t entirely love the way he was savagely marked by his captor after being fucked stupid every time. The blue-black of his bruises only add colour to the porcelain-white canvas that is his skin, and the crimson red of his overly bitten lips surely brightens up his otherwise dull face.
Slowly, tentatively, Wei Ying flares out his five slender fingers and palms them over his neck, just shy of covering his Adam’s apple. If he applies just a bit of pressure, it’ll feel just like him.
Oh, the sickening delight that stirs in the pits of his belly as he thinks of such a thing makes him feel utterly insane. But he already misses Lan Wangji’s warm and brutal touch on him, even when he’s just standing… right there.
At the very front and centre of the class, watching him.
Scrutinising him.
Greedy little eyes sizing him up as always, drinking in every detail of the boy he’d just monopolised all of last night. Clouded with an almost imperceptible—to everyone’s eyes but the target of his very obsession—pool of unquenchable lust and infatuation.
Wei Ying’s sweet silver eyes flutter up to meet his from across the room, and Lan Wangji momentarily loses his composure, he loses all sense of who he is.
He does this everytime.
He’s so nervous, he can’t think. The older man lifts a hand and runs it through his perfectly slicked-back hair, attempting to avert his gaze. He looks so prim and proper dressed in his crisp white shirt, the long sleeves neatly rolled up just above his wrists, revealing hints of bluish-green veins that bulge along his forearms. And so, the slight tremor in his hands, the brief look of unease in his eyes; it all almost looks out of place.
And still, he’s so handsome that a few female students stop in their tracks as they pass him by, turning shy at the sight of him.
But Lan Wangji has only ever had eyes for one boy.
Their little staring competitions never get old. Wei Ying breaks into a bout of soft laughter, and removes his hand off his own neck.
Only for him to be rudely interrupted by an arm suddenly sliding across the back of his shoulders, and the heavy weight of a body plopping into the empty seat next to him.
Wei Ying looks up, and finds himself hiding his grimace at the very face that greets him.
“Wen Xu,” he calls, taking care to play nice.
It appears Wen Xu has had his eye on him for a while now. Wei Ying only realised this when Yanli-jie asked him out for ice-cream last weekend, only to realise he’d been duped into going on a double-date with her and that damned peacock—and the first son of peacock’s closest business partner, Wen Xu. There’s levels at play here; familial and business ties that Wei Ying doesn’t want to necessarily mess up just because he’s not that into immature boys like him.
After all, Wei Ying’s far more accustomed to men.
Luckily, Wen Xu’s not that hard on the eyes. He’s smarter than your average jock, but too arrogant to be a proper nerd. It’s not difficult to see why. He has the face, and the family background, to boot. His sly phoenix eyes and perpetual smirk on his face make him a little unbearable to look at sometimes, but nothing overly revolting. Wei Ying can deal with it. And he dealt with it, for a whole Saturday just to make Yanli-jie happy. Besides, she’d always worried about Wei Ying’s non-existent love life. Not that Wei Ying was ever particularly concerned over it. And so when Wen Xu expressed his interest in her beloved brother, Yanli-jie was too happy to offer up her assistance.
And Wei Ying so very hates disappointing her.
So, he musters up one of his sweetest smiles for the tall boy in his red varsity jacket and doesn’t squirm out of his embrace even if he absolutely loathes his touch.
“Wei Ying,” Wen Xu’s eyes light up in response, as he slams his pile of books down onto the table before him. “I was calling after you earlier, in the hallway. You didn’t wait for me. Didn’t you see me?”
He’s hugging him so tight, his body sidling up so close to Wei Ying that he can feel Wen Xu’s hot breaths airing right against his cheek. Wei Ying winces at the bodily contact, still keeping his—rather tight—smile but trying not to make it too obvious that he’s angling his entire self away from him.
“Yeah, I didn’t see you,” he actually did, but was hoping he’d lose Wen Xu and get him off his trail if he walked fast enough. “Besides, I didn’t know you also took this class.”
“It’s still early in the semester, so I got to switch classes,” Wen Xu gleefully informs him. “I checked both of our schedules to see if we could at least have a class in common, and this one fit the best. So, I pulled some strings.”
…Except this would be the worst class to switch to, if he’s intending to feel Wei Ying up the entire class.
Wei Ying takes a breath, and feels as though a cold chill has just fallen over the lecture hall as he notices the stern gaze of Lan-laoshi practically drilling holes into them. The room that had pulsated with the hum of whispered discussions just moments before, had now entered into a heavy silence, as though sensing the extent of their professor’s wrath. Wei Ying’s fingers tighten around the spine of his notebook, looking away rather uneasily at the feeling.
And then, in a rather unprecedented move, Lan Wangji’s voice cuts through the silence, calm and authoritative and painfully measured.
“Wei Ying,” he bellows, and Wei Ying realises belatedly that it’s the first time he’s ever called Wei Ying’s name in public, with his every syllable so viciously drawn out, as though dripping with his own brand of venom, “perhaps you’d like to let us know when you’re ready for class to begin?”
Oh, he’s seething, alright.
Lan Wangji’s putting Wei Ying on the spot, embarrassing him in front of all of his peers, pinning the blame entirely on him, all because he’d caught Wei Ying cosying up to another boy in his sights—when it really wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault Wen Xu had all but jumped him in his seat!
How was he at fault for being on the receiving end of unwanted romantic advances?!
And yet, Wei Ying’s heart can’t help but do a little skip.
For Lan Wangji looks at him with such a dangerous sneer, his brows furrowing and creating deep lines across his forehead, his calculating eyes narrowing into sharp slits. There’s more black than gold in his eyes at this point. And Wei Ying thinks he looks fucking hot.
Wei Ying is used to his professor’s soft, yearning looks; the ones he gives when he thinks Wei Ying isn’t watching, but oh, Wei Ying’s always so conscious of Lan Wangji’s eyes on him. His laoshi is so sweet, always observing him with his desperate, burning eyes, like he hopes so fervently to get close to him with no fathomable idea how.
That’s what Wei Ying is used to.
But today, there’s something different—something almost predatory and hostile in the way Lan Wangji watches him, as though he’s daring Wei Ying to make another wrong move.
To do something so irrevocable, something so unforgivable Wei Ying would no longer be able to make amends for.
Something that would warrant him hurting Wei Ying for real.
Wei Ying feels almost giddy at the thought. The way Lan Wangji’s so firmly squeezing his pen in anger, it seems as though it’ll splinter into bits anytime now.
How would it feel to be within Lan Wangji’s grasp and be broken, for good?
Wei Ying doesn’t think he’s ever been so jealous of a pen, of all things.
Swallowing hard, Wei Ying pushes past the nervous flutter in his stomach and—very decisively places a hand over Wen Xu’s chest, languidly palming his hard pecs.
Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do, when your jealous stalker slash not quite lover slash violent situationship calls you out.
“I’m sorry, laoshi,” but he’s not sorry at all, with his long spidery lashes fluttering downwards and his cherry red lips sinking into a heavy pout, “I didn’t mean to be loud.”
In other words, it’s practically a confirmation that he’d been fooling around with Wen Xu in class, just as he’d been so harshly berated by Lan Wangji mere seconds before.
In return, Lan Wangji can only see red.
His knuckles whiten around the corners of his desk, and his thick, throbbing veins almost pop from the strength of his grip; and for a long moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.
The room, instead, continues to hang between them, filled with a tension that’s almost electric.
He’s so close to unravelling his one last ounce of control.
Finally, Lan Wangji looks away, unwilling to play Wei Ying’s sickening game, but the slight clench of his jaw says enough. He throws his book open with deliberate force and flips to his intended reading for the day.
“Page sixty-six,” Lan Wangji hisses to the rest of the class, muttering under his breath like a warning, a command.
But even as his gaze settles on the text, his thoughts are far from it.
They’re only thinking about his sweet boy and all that he stands to lose—or has already lost. His Wei Ying.
Sweet laughter bubbles from the back of Wei Ying’s throat, as he removes his hand off of Wen Xu’s chest. Wen Xu looks sorry to see Wei Ying withdrawing his touch, but he’s grateful for the little he’s already gotten, anyway.
Huh, Wei Ying thinks to himself, his lips curling into a thin smile. This could be fun.
.
.
.
Wen Xu’s arm doesn’t ever move from where they’re wrapped around Wei Ying’s shoulders, not even long after class comes to an end.
It’s rather difficult to walk down the steps with a much taller boy hugging you like his entire life depends on it, but Wei Ying has to make do. Besides, it’s worth it—just for that deliciously livid look on Lan-laoshi’s face.
It’s a rare sight, and one that Wei Ying knows he’s responsible for. The thrill it brings him is enough to make everything else fade into the background.
Wei Ying has never seen Lan-laoshi look this homicidal before. Like he’s only one step away from committing plain murder in the flesh. Lan Wangji’s already crazy enough. Breaking into his apartment on a daily basis—even when Wei Ying’s not there—diligently doing his laundry and washing up leftover dishes in his sink. Wei Ying wonders if this could possibly drive him further over the edge. Does Lan Wangji have a limit to his madness? Or is this just the beginning? Can it only get worse from here on out?
Oh, Wei Ying wishes so badly to know.
But then his gaze drifts back to Lan Wangji, and it’s almost laughable to think about. Looking at the man, you wouldn’t even suspect a thing. Who would have guessed this immaculate specimen of a man to get off on such violent tendencies under the cover of the night? He stands just a few feet away, radiating cold perfection as if nothing could ever touch him.
Not a single strand of his hair dares to fall out of place from his flawlessly slicked-back style. Not a crease or wrinkle in his pristine white sleeve. His immaculate appearance, his poised composure—he’s the very definition of order and control.
Until he’s not.
“Wei Ying,” his tone is soft, almost restrained, when he calls after him, just as Wei Ying passes by his desk, along with the horde of students streaming out of the hall.
Wen Xu, who’s still next to him, has been going on and on about this sick party he’s holding this weekend at the condo he shares with his younger brother, lost in his own world that Wei Ying’s long already tuned out.
Wei Ying hesitates for just a second, but then ultimately decides to offer Lan Wangji a sliver of his attention.
He deserves it, for finally summoning the courage to call me by name after all this time.
“Yes, Lan-laoshi?” Wei Ying makes sure to answer all sickly-sweet, cocking his head to the side with an innocent naive look to his eyes that he knows is utterly irresistible.
He has attended enough of Lan Wangji’s lectures and spent enough time in his presence to know exactly what riles him up.
Lan Wangji parts his lips, as though he means to profess something so much more. But then his gaze falls on the irritating sight of Wen Xu still looming by his side, and decides against it.
“Do not disrupt class next time,” Lan Wangji exasperatedly warns, through gritted teeth. “Next class, sit apart from your…” he can’t even say it. His entire world would crumble to bits if he readily accepted such a fact. His eyes are downcast as he frustratedly spits out the word he chooses to settle upon, “…friend.”
Friend. Not boyfriend. Not lover. Not significant other.
“Oh,” Wei Ying hums, happily twirling the ends of his long ponytail. “I’m sorry, laoshi, if it makes you mad.”
Anyone with a brain could hear his tone of voice and know he’s not sorry at all!
Wei Ying’s never been sorry for a thing. He doesn’t have it in him.
He’s only apologising because he needs to. The cackle spewing from his lips tells a whole other story.
For some reason, this wounds Lan Wangji even further—not being taken seriously by his beloved.
“Wei Ying—”
But when he finally musters the strength to raise his head up high and call after Wei Ying once more, his heart sinks at the sight of Wei Ying already walking out of the lecture hall—with his back turned to him. Wei Ying’s shoulders sway side-to-side, the carefree skip in his step infuriatingly joyful, as though he couldn’t be having a better day.
Even when Lan Wangji’s having the worst one of his life.
Oh, nothing cuts deeper than this.
And Wei Ying doesn’t even care.
.
.
.
Slipping into his apartment, Wei Ying shuts the door behind him and locks it for the night. He takes a cursory glance around the living room, his eyes sweeping over the kitchen from where he’s standing. Everything’s been tidied up. The books he had scattered across the coffee table, the socks he’d carelessly left by the door—they’re all neatly put away, washed and folded, in their proper places.
As usual. Wei Ying deliberately leaves his apartment in a mess every morning, only for him to return to a perfect apartment every night. It’s the only way he can tell that his favourite stalker has paid him a visit—is paying him a visit, really. He’s probably still inside this apartment. He’ll show himself when the time is right.
At this point, Wei Ying’s not certain if the man has some form of OCD about keeping everything in order, even if the place isn’t even his. Or perhaps, his love for the boy extends into meticulously cleaning up after him, taking care of him in the few little ways he’s able to.
Since he adamantly refuses on revealing his face or identity to him.
Whatever it is, whenever Wei Ying gets home, it’s a new game of pretence. He feigns that he has no idea there is an intruder in his home, or that his house has been immaculately tidied in a manner that he’s incapable of. He simply drops his bag to the floor, and saunters over to the kitchen, to pull open a fridge he knows will be well-stocked with his favourite yogurt and drinks.
Wei Ying’s always too lazy to cook, and his own Erik à la Phantom of the Opera seems to know that, so there’ll always be refrigerated home-made meals in lunch boxes that Wei Ying gets to heat up once he comes back. Wei Ying had thought them to be store-bought at first, but soon realised the food was too carefully catered to his overly spicy taste buds for it to have been mass produced.
So. It seems like his handsome stalker is a good cook, to boot.
All in all, Wei Ying doesn’t think the trade is so bad. The sex is out of this world, and if letting the man have his way with him meant that Wei Ying would get taken care of so well and good—like a princess—in return, then… well. Wei Ying technically isn’t getting the short end of any stick here.
Wei Ying had already eaten at his job prior, so he’s satisfied enough with his usual blueberry yogurt for now. After tossing the empty cup into the bin, he washes his hands and moves to get himself ready for bed.
He’ll shower afterwards.
He’ll only be filthy then.
.
.
.
The moment Wei Ying’s head sinks into the softness of his pillow, a spine-tingling thrill shoots through him.
He doesn’t even know why the excitement of what is to come still gets him, every damn time.
Or maybe it’s because of the two hands—silent and hasty—emerging from the darkness, curving around his throat perfectly like they were always meant for him. Wei Ying’s throat is still raw from their intense choking two nights ago, and he has to deliberately swallow his moan as the thick fingers fall back into their rightful place on him, matching exactly the red prints that already exist that outline their being.
Wei Ying’s breath catches in his throat as a cloth floats down and covers his eyelids, disrupting his sight. It’s thin enough that he can see a large, dark figure hovering above him, but padded just right to conceal the face of his attacker.
It’s no matter. Wei Ying can picture his face just so handsomely, anyway. He’s even more good-looking when he’s angry. The Lans have always been an attractive bunch. But Lan Wangji—oh, Lan Wangji’s just his type.
“Tell me who that boy is to you,” the voice demands to know angrily, as his hands tighten their grip around Wei Ying—even if the pressure’s not entirely painful for him. It should feel suffocating, for anyone, really; but instead it spreads like wildfire through Wei Ying’s veins, a twisted sort of euphoria that makes him feel utterly sick for enjoying such a thing; especially when the devastation in the man’s voice rings so painfully clear.
Whenever he speaks to him like this, his voice is always deeper. Rougher. Out of control. A complete opposite of the man he is during daylight.
The average person wouldn’t be able to put two and two together, at all. But when your sight is blinded and his rich, velvety voice is all you have to cling onto, it’s easy to memorise every inflection, every quirk of his tone.
Lan Wangji’s hands don’t release from his throat, but instead even shake uncontrollably, betraying a vulnerability that slips out ever so rarely.
He’s seething, but also—lost. Raw, brutal, his desperation only barely masked by his rage.
“Tell me what you’ve been doing with him,” he insists. “Have you been fucking him?”
Of course that’s the first thing he asks.
Wei Ying can only break into a sorry whimper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chokes out, with a feigned air of innocence, wondering if Lan Wangji will take the bait.
But his pathetic act alone is not enough to convince him.
The pressure around his throat grows, coming dangerously close to cutting off his air, as Lan Wangji remains dissatisfied with Wei Ying’s bratty behaviour. “You ungrateful slut,” he growls. “Do I not satisfy you? Do I not take good enough care of you? Does he fuck you even better than I do? He’s but a mere boy.”
His lips hover dangerously close to Wei Ying’s ear, the warmth of his breath stirring the fine hairs along Wei Ying’s neck. Wei Ying almost thinks he’ll spit into his ear, but instead, those lips descend upon the curve of his neck, a long tongue flicking out to angrily lick a spot on his skin that he afterwards quickly bites. Lan Wangji doesn’t deliver his usual soft kisses; his sharp teeth nips and yanks at his skin, breaking it hard enough to draw blood.
At the same time, he releases a hand from Wei Ying’s neck, finally allowing him a chance to draw breath. But just as Wei Ying gasps heavily for air, it’s stolen from him in the next second as he feels a large, broad hand slip in between his thighs and cup his clothed crotch from the front, feeling him up through the thin layer of his maroon sweatpants.
It’s so thin, you can immediately tell Wei Ying’s not wearing any underwear. Lan Wangji’s tight grip over his nether regions means the layer of cloth is being pushed up and moulding right into Wei Ying’s outer lips, outlining the delightful shape of his sweet, tight cunt and the pathetic little cocklet that’s already quickly hardening underneath his fingertips.
Wei Ying chews on his lip, feeling thoroughly exposed.
Lan Wangji squeezes him hard right there, and Wei Ying has to bite back another moan.
“Do you still not understand by now?” Lan Wangji asks in a hiss, barely able to contain his frustration. Teeth that had been grazing Wei Ying’s neck forcefully pull away as he speaks, leaving his student’s skin tingling. “Every part of you, every strand of hair… Your lovely voice, your sweet pussy,” his fingers glide down to fondly trace the pronounced curve of Wei Ying’s fat pussy lips, eliciting a little cute noise tumbling from Wei Ying’s parted mouth, “all belongs to me. You’re my wife, my pretty baby. When the time is right, I’ll make you bear my child… You won’t be able to escape, then. I already have it all planned.”
—But it’s not enough. His cruel intimidation, his cold possessiveness, his words coated with his raging jealousy. It’s not enough for Wei Ying. He wants to fan the flames. He wants more.
“You won’t even let me look at you,” Wei Ying defiantly answers in return. “At least I can look at Wen Xu’s face. It’s not half-bad. I don’t even know who you are—what you look like—”
“So you’ll let anyone with a heartbeat and a moderately pleasing face fuck you?” Lan Wangji angrily questions, his other hand sliding to Wei Ying’s jaw, lifting his face to meet his, the pressure of his fingers just enough to command his attention without hurting him. “Answer me. Are you that fucking easy? Do my visits not satisfy you? I thought I was doing you a favour by giving you a break in between nights. Do you not know I am restraining myself? Do I have to lock you up in a basement for you to understand my fucking limits? To have allowed you your freedom, I thought I was already being fucking nice.”
So, his original plan had been to kidnap Wei Ying, take him back home and keep him isolated and under lock and key as a stay-at-home wife slash prisoner?
That’s… much crazier than Wei Ying would have expected of him.
Just the right amount of crazy he likes.
He doesn’t let the sheer delight show on his face, and tries to harden his gaze in stubborn resistance.
Lan Wangji doesn’t even know.
“You’re being crazy. You don’t own me,” Wei Ying continues to protest, deciding rather impulsively then and there to put up a sorry excuse for a fight. He squirms in Lan Wangji’s grip, twisting and writhing, his body desperate to break free, but it’s completely futile. Every attempt to escape is swallowed by Lan Wangji’s unbreakable hold, the strength in his arms far outmatching Wei Ying’s feeble one.
In fact, the more he struggles, the madder Lan Wangji becomes, and the tighter Lan Wangji clenches around him, determined to mold him into submission.
(But Wei Ying’s really not putting any effort into this at all.)
“I’ll show you just how insane I can be,” Lan Wangji snarls at him, accepting the very challenge. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”
(That’s what Wei Ying likes to hear.)
In one fell swoop, Lan Wangji flips Wei Ying onto his stomach, so suddenly and forcefully that Wei Ying barely has time to brace himself. Before he can even process what’s happening, Lan Wangji’s body is over his, pressing him down into the soft bed with a suffocating weight. His strong chest presses against Wei Ying’s back, his breath hot and steady against the curve of his neck as his arms lock around him like iron chains.
“Don’t even try to run from me,” Lan Wangji snaps at him, sounding the most unkind he’s ever been. His sheer strength easily pins Wei Ying down, trapping him completely, the heat from his hard chest soaking into Wei Ying’s skin. His lips brush the rim of Wei Ying’s ear, igniting a stir of desire in Wei Ying‘s stomach that so desperately hides, “You can never escape me. Not in this life, I assure you, or the next.”
Wei Ying is suddenly so thankful that he’s able to hide his burning cheeks in this very position when Lan Wangji impatiently pulls the red sweatpants down and off of him—and is treated to the sight of Wei Ying already having completely soaked through the particular spot where his cunt sits.
Wei Ying’s already so wet, and ripe for the taking.
Lan Wangji’s… left momentarily speechless.
“Don’t look,” Wei Ying has the gall to act shy at this very moment, as he clamps his thighs shut and attempts to hide damning evidence of his dripping arousal.
But Lan Wangji can’t help but to slide his hands down to in between Wei Ying’s legs, to feel up his wet sopping cunt for himself.
“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, like he’s aggravated to know of it.
…Like he can’t stand how naturally lewd his beloved is; how he’s so perfectly small underneath of him, so slender, cunt always so tight and erotic and leaking non-stop like he’s ready to be fucked at any given time…
“You’re just asking for it at this point,” Lan Wangji flat-out states, sounding exasperated once more. Wei Ying doesn’t know why he’s mad again. Is he mad that Wei Ying’s just an effortlessly alluring, sexy minx with such a natural ability to cause men to lose their minds?
Is he mad that it couldn’t possibly ever be Wei Ying’s fault for attracting the attention of other men?
Urgently shifting himself downwards, Lan Wangji lowers his head until it’s level with Wei Ying’s pussy and greedily takes in a long inhale, just so he can breathe in its scent. It’s…an almost animalistic hunger that overtakes him as he does so, his eyes sliding shut to revel properly in the moment.
So…utterly…sweet. So…fucking…delectable.
As his hands slide down Wei Ying’s milky white thighs to keep them rooted in place, his mouth descends onto the prized cunt, darting a tongue out and sweeping it against the pink folds.
“Haa…aaah!” A soft cry escapes Wei Ying’s battered lips, a decibel louder than he thought it would be.
Lan Wangji doesn’t even need to say it. Wei Ying can already hear it hanging in the air.
Only I can make you feel this good.
But Lan Wangji’s not feeling particularly charitable tonight. He sneaks a taste of Wei Ying’s cunt, only because he craves it and wants it for himself, not because he’s attempting to pleasure him in any way. He loves pampering his princess, yes. But Wei Ying doesn’t deserve it in any way. Not tonight.
That little thot of his sways his bubble butt side to side like he has no idea of its natural consequences, cutely trembling and non-stop quivering from where he’s kneeling against the bed, the perfect mounds of his round ass tempting him… drawing him in.
Lan Wangji’s two hands clench down onto those slender legs of his so hard, he’s bound to leave new red bruises on Wei Ying wherever he touches.
Telling him straight, without even uttering a single word: You’ll do as you’re told, when I want you to.
Licking his lips, Lan Wangji pulls his tongue from Wei Ying’s pussy and savours the remaining juices still dribbling from the side of his mouth, not willing to let any of it go to waste.
And then he’s hurriedly reaching for his own pants, pulling it down to just above his knees, leaving just enough room for his—rather sizable—cock to go free.
Wei Ying can’t even turn to look, to admire it in its entirety. He’s never been able to. The blindfold never leaves his eyes. But oh, can he feel it well enough. He’d recognise it even in the dark. The gentle curve of its fat head, the thick girth of its long length. The slight wetness of the precum already enthusiastically oozing out. Slapping against his ass, rubbing all over it and leaking glistening fluid onto his skin, being a painful tease.
Lan Wangji’s so big and hard, Wei Ying can hardly contain the moan spilling from his lips.
Luckily for him, Lan Wangji’s not in the mood to wait.
Wei Ying’s wet enough to take him at one go. He only feels the head of Lan Wangji’s heavy cock pressing and prodding at the back folds of his pussy for a mere second, before feeling it slip right in without a care, angrily thrusting inside of Wei Ying in one fluid motion.
“Ah!” Wei Ying cries, almost keeling over from the roughness of it all. He always forgets just how monstrous Lan Wangji’s cock is. It’s not for everyone to stomach, for sure. Everytime Lan Wangji forces himself into him, it feels like all wind is knocked out of Wei Ying. He can barely breathe; he can only concentrate on feeling so full he can hardly speak.
But Lan Wangji’s hand moves to support him by holding his soft belly, where he likes to feel himself moving inside of Wei Ying the most.
Tonight, it’s all about Lan Wangji’s pleasure.
Not his baobei’s.
“Fuuck,” comes his hot groans, as his other hand finds its way back around Wei Ying’s neck, holding him in place. Like this, Wei Ying can’t really move. He’s but a doll to be played with, a toy to be used at Lan Wangji’s whim for pain and pleasure. Being filled up to the very brim, his small mouth hardly able to part wide enough to catch big enough breaths. “You feel so good…baobei…You’re squeezing all around me, you must want my cock so much…”
Still thrusting his dick feverishly inside of him, Lan Wangji leans over and takes Wei Ying’s cute earlobe into his mouth, sensually biting along the edges, “Why can’t you be sweet and good for me all the time? I like you the best when your cunt is swallowing me whole, you’re way more honest…”
God, Wei Ying is blushing!
“No, no,” Wei Ying stubbornly begs, even as his little cocklet throbs uncontrollably in between his shivering thighs, and his pussy wildly pulsates around Lan Wangji’s monster cock. The tears flow from his eyes, his mouth having fallen open in a choked gasp. “Please… I don’t want… I’m not a slut… I didn’t… nngh… It hurts…”
He’s only faking most of it, although it does hurt, but only in all the good ways. He’s so full that his normally flat belly is already bulging, the fat head of Lan Wangji’s cock making its appearance known as usual. Wei Ying only ever feels complete when Lan Wangj fills him up like this, joining their bodies together into one. He’s right—they were made for each other. In this life, and the next.
Plus, the more he writhes and squirms in his hold, pushing his ass back and forth against the man, even in his frenzied and uncoordinated rhythm, the better it feels around Lan Wangji’s cock.
Lan Wangji can say otherwise all he wants, but Wei Ying knows even he enjoys the way Wei Ying fights him.
It excites him, in the most perverted way possible.
He likes this game, Wei Ying thinks to himself, even more than I do.
“You’re so cute, you’re the cutest, baobei,” and his dick is twitching uncontrollably inside of Wei Ying, incredibly turned on at all of his adorable silly attempts to get away. “Pushing back onto me like that… Don’t you know how much tighter you feel? You’re making me so hard… I can’t ever get enough of you.”
Wei Ying shamelessly moans at what he hears, unconsciously arching his back into impossible feline proportions against Lan Wangji’s thrusts even more. For the harder Lan Wangji chokes him, the harder Wei Ying clenches his cunt around him. Endless amounts of slick dribble continuously down his inner thighs, dripping all over his bed from how hard his knees have been shaking against it. He can smell himself at this point, along with Lan Wangji; the strong scent of their sex mingling with their sweat in the heavy air.
Then, as if only just remembering why he’s here, Lan Wangji squeezes his throat, and harshly sinks his teeth into the back of his nape, while angrily accusing of him, “You fucking bitch. One cock isn’t enough, so you’ve sought out another one, is that it? Is your pussy so greedy you need two cocks to satisfy you? Does he even fuck you better than I do? You’re such a whore, you’ll accept any third-rated cock as long as it’s offered to you, won’t you?”
He’s fucking so furiously and manically inside of Wei Ying, it almost hurts. He’s going so deep, so rough, his thrusts almost violent, that the outer lips of Wei Ying’s pussy are quickly turning red from his rabid assault.
Fuck, it feels so good.
“Haaa…nnngh!” Wei Ying cries out with tear-filled eyes, as his body dangerously teeters on the verge of collapse. He feels like he’s almost being split open, the way Lan Wangji’s treating him. And it’s not from lack of love, no; it’s from the full extend of his deranged obsession. He can barely get the words out, breathless gasps leaving his small body that’s being destroyed inside out, “No, please, I—I didn’t fuck him, I promise, I wouldn’t dare. He’s, he’s just a boy who won’t leave me alone…!”
But Lan Wangji’s not done. “You lie, Wei Ying is so fond of lying, but I’ll make you learn your lesson, and after tonight, you’ll never fucking betray me again.”
He tightens his hold on Wei Ying’s nape and forces him down onto the bed headfirst, until only the boy’s hips are shakily lifted and his cute round ass is sticking out in the air and being fucked—continuously moulded—onto the very shape of his cock.
“Ah, ah, nngh, Daddy, please believe me…!” Wei Ying sobs frantically into the sheets, his muffled cries and his mounting fear only crazily turning him on even more, such that his little cocklet endlessly jolts in between his thighs. He hardly has the strength to hold himself up, his arms collapsing and his elbows sinking into the bed. He’s become so—shamefully—wet, the loud noises of skin slapping against skin and wetness and muscles squelching as Lan Wangji slams his dick into him, over again and again, without care or concern, along with his pathetic noises—of begging—being the only things that fill the air.
Wei Ying’s slutty little pussy is so roughed up, he must have already come once or twice being continuously violated in this position. He can’t even keep track. His mind is entirely empty, save for the raw pleasure running through him.
Lan Wangji notices this—rather smugly, of course, and a sense of pride that makes him puff his chest out. “Baobei, your tight cunt’s long been moulded to the exact shape and size of my cock. But I believe you already know that, don’t you? The fact that only I can satisfy you.” And then, as if greedy to hear the very thing, he leans over and barks the command into Wei Ying’s ear, warm breaths tickling Wei Ying’s skin. “Say it. Tell me who owns your sweet little pussy?”
Drenched completely in sweat, Wei Ying’s mouth is permanently parted, letting out cute tortured noises by the second, “Ah, ah, you, only you… this pussy, nngh, it belongs only to you…!”
God, this man will drive him absolutely crazy.
For a moment, Lan Wangji is satisfied enough to slightly loosen his hold around Wei Ying’s throat, as if wanting so badly to believe him.
But he’s cautious, he’s always been overly cautious; and he’s breathing heavily into Wei Ying’s ear again as he tucks a stray strand back behind his beloved’s lobe, “But I’ve seen you touching him. You touch him in all the ways I wish you would do for me…”
There it is—the soft vulnerable side to him that slips out every now and then, that Wei Ying likes so much.
He has his moments, where his honest feelings are fully made known.
He fucks Wei Ying slower now, much sweeter. Almost as though he’s in contemplative thought, like he’s re-evaluating everything he knows.
“That boy must be bothering you,” Lan Wangji finally concludes, pressing a sweet, sorry kiss to Wei Ying’s cheek.
Wei Ying eagerly nods, too fucked out to muster the strength for anything else.
The older man must have wanted to believe that so much, that even the slightest confirmation has him relenting almost immediately. Removing his hands from Wei Ying’s—now bruised red—throat, he plants soft gentle kisses all over his discolored skin.
Wei Ying selfishly crumbles underneath all of Lan Wangji’s kisses, relishing in being spoiled. He likes being roughed up, but he enjoys their affectionate moments, too.
“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me like that,” Lan Wangji whispers to him, pressing his nose to Wei Ying’s hair, and eagerly taking a deep whiff. At the end of the day, Wei Ying’s his most cherished possession... “You’re so beautiful, it’s inevitable you’ll have a boy or two fawning over you. But it doesn’t matter…” and he takes a second as though to seriously weigh his options, and choose what’s best, uttering it in the most casual manner possible like he’s just decided to have chicken for dinner, “I’ll just have to kill him. Then, we’ll finally be rid of this nuisance.”
—Wait, what?
Wei Ying’s eyes widen under the cover of his blindfold, the world around him growing suddenly sharper, more acute, as his heartbeat quickens in his chest.
And for the first time ever, he feels the full weight of fear.
Did he… Did he just say that?
“Do you… Do you mean that?” Wei Ying’s belly churns as he asks, feeling something so sharp and tight crawling up his spine as his thoughts scramble to catch up with the fact that his handsome stranger just proposed murder.
Lan Wangji would get away with it. He has the power, he has the means. He’s from old money, with riches that would last for generations. And above it all, he’s so drop-dead gorgeous. No one would even question him.
Wei Ying doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t even want to admit that the idea delights him, deep down inside. Doesn’t want to admit he’s just as sick as the man committing these vile acts to him, doesn’t want to admit they’re two peas in the same pod.
And for some reason, Lan Wangji possesses the same exact excitement, as well.
“Once he’s gone, you won’t look at him anymore,” Lan Wangji sighs in relief at the thought, like up till recently it’d only been a dream he’d fantasised plenty about. “Your eyes…they’ll belong solely to me. Maybe one day, if I’m lucky…you’ll look at me like that. You’ll touch me, like you love me…Your pretty foxy silver eyes…”
Oh, he’s batshit insane.
Wei Ying thinks Lan Wangji might one day stuff his corpse and keep him as his own personal life-size doll if he could.
He’s only counting on the fact that Lan Wangji enjoys hearing his voice way more.
The older man picks up the pace again, snapping his hips forward to ruthlessly fuck into Wei Ying’s tight little cunt, softly groaning and gasping as he slowly chases after his release—now that he’s finally gotten the confirmation he’s wanted.
“Wei Ying…” and his voice, as raspy and breathless as it is, is much lighter now, much more tender and full of love, his arms winding around Wei’s chest and hugging him like a boy clinging to his favourite soft toy for bed. “I love you so much… One day, you’ll smile at me like that… It’ll be the happiest day of my life…”
He’s acting so incredibly needy, it’s so…so incomprehensibly hot.
“I’ll kill him just for touching you, I’ll make him suffer just as much as I did,” Lan Wangji continues to blatantly fantasise, bucking his hips even harder, even faster, even more frenzied than before, as though getting off on every murderous thought, “I’ll kill every fucking man you look at. I won’t stop until I’m the only one for you left in this world. You’ll love me, only me.”
And just as he feels he’s close, the hand on Wei Ying’s belly slides down to in between his sticky thighs, and begins to fondle his cute little cocklet, the one thing he never pays attention to until the very last second of their fucking.
“You’ll still love me, right?” he murmurs, lovingly nuzzling his face against Wei Ying’s neck. He strokes Wei Ying’s small dick, pumping it hotly and making it feel so good by covering it entirely with his large hands. He urgently beseeches of Wei Ying, “You’ll still love me, even at my worst?”
Oh, he’s so fucking dangerous.
“Ah, ah,” Wei Ying can’t help but uselessly cry out, as he’s manhandled so effortlessly into cumming and squirting on command. Lan Wangji knows every inch of his body, for better or worse. And why does he sound so fucking hot talking about murder so casually like that? “Ah, ah…! Please, haaa, it feels so good…!”
Wei Ying’s cute little noises always do it for him. Rather recklessly, Lan Wangji puckers his mouth and captures Wei Ying’s lips into a hungry kiss, completely dominating his tongue and ravaging the walls of his mouth, inside out. He doesn’t kiss Wei Ying very often, but Wei Ying thinks it’s not because he doesn’t want to—but because it feels overly intimate, and he thinks Lan Wangji’s still overly shy and reserved when it comes down to it. But when he does actually kiss him, it’s all-consuming, it’s entirely desperate, it feels as though Lan Wangji thinks he won’t ever get the chance again.
“Ha…” As always, Lan Wangji selfishly spills entirely inside of his pussy—he never ever lets even one drop leak out. Plugging Wei Ying up with his cock, ensuring Wei Ying gets every bit.
Wei Ying’s small belly protrudes even more, an unbelievably erotic sight, thanks to the new addition of Lan Wangji’s hot load of cum now filling him up from inside out.
It’s just what Lan Wangji likes. Depraved little scenes like this.
The thought escapes him even before Lan Wangji can restrain it. “What are the odds that I will get you pregnant tonight,” he murmurs dreamily into Wei Ying’s ear, like it’s their own little joke to be shared only between them. “It’s possible, right?”
Wei Ying can’t believe his insanity. Trust him to be capable of entertaining such a thought, at this juncture. “I’m still young,” he casually says, although he wonders about such a thing himself. He’s…still twenty-one, after all. There’s a whole world that’s out there that he hasn’t explored.
But a life with Lan Wangji doesn’t sound so bad.
“I know,” Lan Wangji says, squeezing him in his arms. “But I would take such good care of you. I have a big house, for the kids to run around. They wouldn’t ever want for food, for clothing. And you’re at the perfect age to have my baby.”
If he senses Wei Ying’s reservations, he doesn’t ever acknowledge it.
How the hell does this man’s mind even work—jumping straight from murder to creating a family of his own in a matter of seconds?
How are those two things even comparable in any way? Or is it all the same to him?
“You’d look even more beautiful, round with a heavy belly, waddling all over the place,” Lan Wangji lightly hums, smiling into his neck. “It’d be harder for you to run away, then. You’d need me, even more. I’d wait on you, hand and foot. I’d treat you better than you’ve ever felt. Do you want that?”
Well, Wei Ying has no doubt about anything he’s saying.
He just doesn’t feel like letting Lan Wangji have it all so easily.
He is, after all, a brat at heart.
“What if I don’t like the way you look?” Wei Ying boldly asks, and it’s a very logical thing to question in their very circumstance. “What if I don’t like you very much at all?”
Lan Wangji’s breaths stutter, completely caught off-guard by the question. He hadn’t expected that. “W…What?”
“If you’re not handsome enough,” Wei Ying solemnly states, although he’s really just teasing. “I wouldn’t want you as the father of my children.”
Lan Wangji actually falls silent at that, like it’s a hugely plausible thing.
And Wei Ying has to swallow back a laugh. What? Is Lan Wangji so grossly unaware of his attractiveness that he’s gravely concerned over this?
“You can’t,” Lan Wangji pathetically insists, after a moment’s pause. He desperately grabs hold of Wei Ying, clutches onto him like the very thought scares him. “You… You have to like me. Only me. I, I cannot live without you. Even if I cannot meet Wei Ying’s expectations…”
Wei Ying chews on his lip, biting back on his own laughter. “Then, you should reveal yourself to me. Sooner, rather than later.” Then, taking the chance, he remembers to add, rather thoughtfully, remembering the matter of murder at hand: “Plus… you shouldn’t hurt Wen Xu. Not like this. He’s not worth your time. It’ll scare me.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from the other man, and then complete silence.
And Wei Ying knows he’s completely stumped Lan Wangji for the night.
He’ll just have to wait until the next time.
.
.
.
See, Wei Ying’s never claimed to be an exceptionally good student.
He just never seems to learn his lessons.
Somehow, even after a week, Wen Xu doesn’t seem to be mentally capable of catching a hint. Or a rejection. So, it isn’t Wei Ying’s fault if Wen Xu continues to hang about his periphery, hanging off his shoulders like he’s Wei Ying’s self-proclaimed boyfriend. Or something.
Like, what else was Wei Ying supposed to do? He can’t outright tell Wen Xu to scram, it’d be bad for his brother-in-law’s business. Plus, A-Cheng is meant to take over the family business, one way or another. He’s not going to be the sore thorn in his way that prevents them from winning any future deals from the Wens.
Besides, Wei Ying’s suffering, too. He’s the one that has to endure mundane lunches with the boy in between classes, and act as a part-time photographer for all of the girls that run up and ask for a photo with the rich fuerdai, sometimes.
And, for some miraculous reason, as much as Lan Wangji’s hell-bent on failing Wen Xu out of his class, he never actually needs to drop it all together. He’d once said he’d pulled some strings. Wei Ying’s pretty sure the Wens are a huge sponsor of the university. The administration wouldn’t act recklessly toward the high-esteemed Wen heir for anything. Much less a random class he’s failing, even if it’s taught by a prestigious Lan.
So, as much as Lan Wangji throws resentful and bitter glances their way throughout the entire duration of class, Wei Ying doesn’t find that he can actually do anything about it.
(Even if his body pays in kind, once night falls.)
This time, Wen Xu has to rush off after class for an athletes’ meet, and a fellow classmate takes up some of Wei Ying’s time by asking for his help on some homework he’s missed.
So, by the time Wei Ying’s making his way down the stairs of the lecture hall and passing by the podium, there are not many students left in this place, no.
In fact, he’s one of the last few ones.
Wei Ying has a feeling Lan Wangji might just take advantage of that.
As he predicts—the man stops him in his tracks just as Wei Ying walks past his desk, his gentle cadence a nice, welcome contrast to the rougher one he’s more used to.
“Wei Ying,” Lan-laoshi calls for him, quietly arranging the thick framed glasses perched on his high nose bridge. He’s so effortlessly handsome, Wei Ying would be envious, if he wasn’t already internally swooning. “Do you have a moment?”
He’s so intentionally polite; Wei Ying can’t get used to it.
(He’s more used to the man taking according to his whims, after all.)
“Sure, Lan-laoshi,” Wei Ying happily chirps, making his way right towards his professor’s desk. “Anything for you.”
It’s just three simple words, but the effects are instantaneous on the man. His earlobes flush scarlet red, as his gaunt cheeks heat up. Upon taking a close look, Wei Ying finds dark eyebags decorating his ethereal-looking pair of gold opal eyes. Lan-laoshi must not be sleeping very well, lately.
Something must have been troubling him.
Wei Ying briefly notices Lan Wangji’s sharp gaze falling downwards, eyeing his neck in amazement—and Wei Ying quickly remembers to pull up the scarf he’d remembered to wear today, hoping to hide the red hand imprints that refuse to go away.
Is he marvelling at his own work? How very sick of him, Wei Ying thinks. But I expected no less.
Lan Wangji attempts to avert his gaze when he realises he’s been found out, although his eyes don’t stray too far from Wei Ying’s face—is he distracted this time by the look of Wei Ying’s overly chewn lips? “I’ve noticed your company of late,” he clears his throat, saying. Trying to come across as though it’s merely a casual observation, something he’d only done out of normal concern from a teacher to his student. “This boy… Wen Xu. He’s a new friend of yours.”
Wei Ying takes care not to grin too widely. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”
Why is he confirming it? Lan Wangji can’t even stand the thought. His face quickly darkens, his lips pursing into a stern frown. He’s so obvious, it almost hurts. “Apologies if you find me overstepping, but he’s not quite good company. He’s been distracting you in plenty of my classes.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying says, pressing a thoughtful finger to his chin, acting as though he’s entirely surprised by the fact. He thinks it over, and asks once more: “Has he?”
Lan Wangji’s response is a resounding declaration. “Yes,” he insists, rather firmly. “He has.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying answers again, like he hasn’t got a clue. With a cheeky grin, Wei Ying tells him, not like it’s a promise or anything: “Well, it won’t happen again, laoshi.”
It’s clearly not the answer Lan Wangji’s looking for.
The grave disappointment oozes out of his gaze, like he’s thoroughly let down by Wei Ying’s lack of taking him seriously.
The words spill from his lips even before he can stop them. “I don’t want to see you with him again,” Lan Wangji snaps, barely concealing his irate. “He’s not a good influence. You can do better. You’re important to me. You are…” my wife. He pauses only then, as he re-adjusts his glasses, choosing his words very carefully. “…one of my top students. And he’s failing out of this class. I don’t want him to drag you down.”
Wei Ying quietly chuckles to himself, only because his line of thought is so ludicrous. Who is Lan-laoshi kidding? He hardly speaks to his students, not even the female ones that routinely pester him for private consultations, and it’s easy to tell that he doesn’t actually care about any of them. If he wishes to play the concerned teacher card, it’s simply an act that’s not very believable.
“Well, okay,” Wei Ying says. And just when Lan Wangji thinks he’s getting through to him, because Wei Ying is a little shit, he decides to pompously add: “But it’s not really any of your business who I hang out with. I appreciate your concern, I really do, laoshi, but it’s unwarranted. So, if that’s all you have to say to me, can I be excused now?”
…Okay, so sue him. Wei Ying was merely curious how Lan Wangji would react, should he push a wee bit back on him. He’s never been able to do so, especially not during any of their nights together. Lan Wangji’s always held all the power. But he’s acting a little self-righteous right now, is he not? Taking matters into his own hands, telling Wei Ying who he can or cannot hang out with. Though, if he had it his way, Wei Ying guesses he wouldn’t let Wei Ying speak or look at anyone else but him.
After having spent countless nights with him, he already knows him well enough to deduce such a thing.
Wei Ying just never expected to witness the harrowing fall of Lan Wangji’s face like this—with his beautiful golden eyes first widening in shock, then instantly dimming, as though the overwhelming heartbreak had been enough to suck the very life out of him. His lips part slightly, if only to allow a soft, anguished exhale to escape. And his entire body seems to sag, his shoulders bowing, no longer keeping his perfect posture, as though the blow dealt to him had been too great. The pen slips from his hand, clattering to the table with a hollow sound, but it goes completely unnoticed by him; Lan Wangji doesn’t even react.
“Have I…overstepped?” his voice is small, so incredibly small. He doesn’t know where to place himself, doesn’t know where to go from here. He looks at everywhere else but Wei Ying, unable to meet his eyes. “I did not mean…” he’s so devastated, his gaze has clouded over. “Forgive me. I did not mean to offend…”
Wei Ying… oh, Wei Ying, he actually feels bad.
“It’s, um, fine,” Wei Ying quickly says, seeing his drastic overreaction. “I, um, should go now, I think.”
He can’t bear the pained look on Lan Wangji’s face, otherwise.
Lan Wangji’s breath is heavy. “Okay,” he quietly says. But just as Wei Ying begins to turn away from him, Lan Wangji’s hand darts out to grip his wrist, holding him in place, unwilling to let go.
Afraid that if he does, Wei Ying will be lost to him, for good.
Those gentle golden eyes of his lock onto him, pleading with him.
“Do you like him?” he can’t help but to ask. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Now he’s crossing a teacher-student boundary, for real.
“That’s…really none of your business,” Wei Ying curtly tells him, and quickly pulls his wrist away from him, slipping from Lan Wangji’s grasp like a fleeting dream.
“Wei Ying—”
But Wei Ying’s already gone, having fled the scene of his crime, leaving Lan Wangji simply standing there, drowning in his own sea of confusion, and pain, and unrelenting helplessness.
He had thought Wei Ying to be irrefutably his, but now…he’s not so sure.
.
.
.
Okay, so maybe Wei Ying’s a little fucked up in the head.
But isn’t Lan Wangji, too? Perhaps even worse, given how his acts could easily warrant him multiple jail sentences. Wei Ying has hardly even scratched the surface of an ounce of what’s been done to him.
If, comparatively, the worst thing he’s done is to play with Lan Wangji’s heart—just a little!—is it really so bad?
Wei Ying likes being wanted, and he likes being fawned over, and he wants to be adored to the highest heavens. Lan Wangji already does this, but can’t a boy keep him on his toes?
It’s not like he won’t get to have his payback by the time night falls.
Fine, at the very most—Wei Ying will be sweeter on him tonight, and twice as nice as he usually is. He’ll let Lan Wangji do whatever he wants, he won’t utter even a single word of protest. Wei Ying will suck that hot piece of dick until every ounce of heartbreak has permanently left his soul!
Slipping into bed, Wei Ying pulls the covers up over himself, and settles his head against the pillow. His eyes may slink shut, but his mind remains wide awake, pacing in the silence; waiting for the imminent arrival of his professor.
Funny, Wei Ying thinks with a wry curve of his lips, his mind drifting as it always does when he’s half-dreaming. Isn’t he already here? Why is he so late this time?
He forces his eyes shut harder, as though it’ll somehow stop the gnawing ache in his chest.
Remembering the devastated look on his laoshi’s face. It’s a look he’ll remember till the end of his days.
Wei Ying doesn’t notice when he eventually succumbs to his exhaustion, from all of the sleepless nights on end.
He only stirs back awake once more, many hours later, when he feels wet tears—soft and hot—dripping onto the nape of his neck. He sluggishly blinks, disoriented, straining his ears to make out the soft whispers floating through the air.
“…my sweet Wei Ying,” the familiar voice murmurs through the haze, low and trembling, full of despair. “Have you already tired of me?”
Before he can say anything, arms wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him back against the warmth of a familiar chest, moulded perfectly against his own. The soft strands of his hair tickling Wei Ying’s nape.
“I love you, my sweetheart,” Lan Wangji continues to whisper, kissing the tip of his shoulder, pressing against his skin as though trying to imprint the confession onto him, to make Wei Ying understand the full weight of it. “I’m so scared… it’s all been a lie. Your eyes… you’re so cold towards me. You’re warmer to everybody else. I, I can’t stand that…”
Wei Ying doesn’t know if he should say anything. He’s not quite sure if Lan Wangji’s… looking for a response?
How strange… This is the first night they’re spending together without sex of any sort.
Lan Wangji’s simply holding him… and crying.
Had Wei Ying hurt him so bad?
“Baby,” he woefully pleads with him. “I fear I’ll have to lock you up… I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t want you looking at me like that. Why won’t you love me, already? I’m so tired of this… I just want to keep you for myself.”
Wei Ying has a nasty feeling, that he’s not entirely lying about this.
The man’s going off the deep end.
Wei Ying quickly breathes out, before he loses Lan Wangji for real, “Then, let me look at you. Then, we can be together, properly. I promise I won’t dislike you. Any part of you.”
I already like every part. You’re the man of my dreams.
Lan Wangji’s breath staggers out, in pure nervousness. “I’m probably not what you envisioned. I’m a tad bit older than you… Perhaps you’d prefer a boy your age.”
Wei Ying knows he must have his insecurities. It’s the reason he insists on the blindfold everytime, after all.
But he thinks it’s entirely bullshit.
“I’ll love you, every part of you,” Wei Ying promises, with all of his heart. “I give you my word. I know you’ll be perfect for me.”
Lan Wangji’s thinking so loud, Wei Ying can almost hear his restless apprehension in the air.
“I thought you wanted to make me your wife,” Wei Ying reminds him, hoping it’ll serve as helpful encouragement. “Don’t I have to like you for that to happen?”
Lan Wangji’s completely honest when he confesses, “No, you don’t,” although he does remember to add afterwards, “but I hope you do.”
Wei Ying thinks he’s just being silly at this point.
“I love you,” he whispers into the heavy silence.
Lan Wangji presses his lips to Wei Ying’s neck, and breathes in the scent of his strawberry-scented hair in case it’s the last time.
“You’ll have to marry me, after this,” Lan Wangji makes him vow. “I’ll take you to meet my family. My uncle…brother. They already know about you. I promised them you’d meet them, eventually. After you’ve fully accepted me…”
“Okay,” Wei Ying sweetly answers him. “I promise. I’ll meet them, after this. I hope they’ll like me, even if I’m much younger.”
Only then, is Lan Wangji sated enough to take the plunge. Threading his fingers through Wei Ying’s long silken strands of hair, he murmurs to his favourite boy, “They’ll love you, just as I do.”
And then, slowly but surely, Lan Wangji’s hand gently prods at Wei Ying, urging him without a single word. It’s a soft invitation, a silent request… to finally turn around and meet him for the first time.
Wei Ying hesitates for only a moment, before he follows his cue.
He’s not blindfolded tonight. Lan Wangji must have had prepared for this to happen.
Slowly, he shifts. Flipping himself around until they’re face-to-face, their hot breaths mingling in the small space between them.
Handsome golden eyes—deep, tortured ones—stare lonesomely right back at him, framed by a face Wei Ying could never mistake; illuminated only by the moonlight that filters gently through the windows, holding Lan Wangji’s face in its pale glow. Godly sculpted features, strong and perfectly defined, with lines around his eyes and mouth that are telling of his age. But it is his lack of youth that further strengthens his beauty, giving him a quiet, mature elegance.
Lan Wangji anxiously searches his eyes, hoping against hope not to find distaste or disappointment within his beloved’s gaze.
Wei Ying almost forgets to fake his surprise. It’s supposed to be his first time recognising his stalker as his professor.
“Lan-laoshi?” Wei Ying makes sure to ask, purposefully peeling his eyes open wide in soft bewilderment. His act must have fooled him, because Lan Wangji looks sufficiently ashamed.
“Please,” and he’s reaching a hand out to gently cradle Wei Ying’s cheek, gripping him close, still so afraid of blatant rejection, “I’ve always wanted to hear you call me by name… Lan Zhan.”
Wei Ying’s heart races against his will.
Now, this is actually new.
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying timidly echoes, in that small, tiny voice of his, sinking his cheek obediently into the palm of the man’s hand.
Lan Wangji’s eyes glisten with wetness, as he breathes sharply into the air. It’s all he’s ever dreamed of.
“Wei Ying,” he calls after him in return, his heart feeling so full. With growing hope flickering in his eyes, Lan Wangji reaches for both of Wei Ying’s hands, his fingers curling around Wei Ying’s, wrapping around him tightly. “You… You are accepting me?”
Wei Ying’s heart has belonged to him, from day one.
I’ve always known it was you.
But that’s a secret he’ll never tell.
“Yeah,” Wei Ying smiles ever so sweetly at him. “I’m so glad that it’s you. You’re perfect for me.”
Lan Wangji’s so overcome with love, his hands are shaking uncontrollably. “Really?”
Wei Ying’s grin can’t get any wider. “Really.” This time, he’s the one cupping Lan Wangji’s face, tenderly thumbing his cheek. It’s the first time he’s ever getting to touch the older man like this. His skin is remarkably soft. “You’re so unbearably handsome. Did you think I wouldn’t like this face of yours?”
Lan Wangji flushes again, feeling shy and stupid all at the same time. “I thought… perhaps… you would find me too old,” he laments, looking elsewhere. “There are so many boys your age that you might prefer. I was afraid you’d already tired of me. That I was just a short novelty, to pass your time…”
Even if Wei Ying ever got tired of him, how would he ever escape from his grasp? Lan Wangji wouldn’t ever let him go.
Either way— “I don’t like anybody else,” Wei Ying helpfully makes certain.
“Then,” Lan Wangji quickly rushes to ask, anxiously lifting his hopeful gaze back up to meet his. “You do not like the Wen boy?”
Wei Ying snort-laughs at the idea. “No,” he asserts. “I never did. He’s…well, he’s too immature for me.”
“Oh,” Lan Wangji hums. He’s ecstatic to hear of it. At least he won’t need to get his hands bloody, as he intended to if this entire thing went bust. Looking down toward their hands, he bashfully suggests, “Perhaps, I am more to your liking…”
Wei Ying giggles, before leaning in just enough to plant a quick, playful kiss to Lan Wangji’s cheek. “You are. I prefer my men…more assertive.”
Lan Wangji’s eyes twinkle at what he hears, and he becomes entirely undone, melting under the warmth of the sudden kiss. “I will do my best.”
Wei Ying quickly jumps to say, “No, no. You’re already perfect!”
Seriously, Lan Wangji’s very much domineering enough! Wei Ying’s body couldn’t possibly withstand anymore!
“No, Wei Ying’s the perfect one,” Lan Wangji insists, stubbornly shaking his head. As though issuing a decree, the certainty in his tone is so absolute, so sure, that it feels like the world itself will have to bend to his will: “You can’t leave me, anymore, I won’t let you. You’ll have to marry me.”
Wei Ying’s smile only extends, until it becomes impossibly bright in their shared darkness. “I’ll have to marry you.”
After all, Wei Ying likes him so much better in the light.