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English
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Published:
2023-02-08
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1,262
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1/1
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inevitability

Summary:

"His face," Lan Jue is saying, shaking his head. "Surely we were never so earnest."

It is a fine night. The moon, once voluptuous on the horizon, is now high overhead, staring down as if perplexed by the sight of two men who ought to have taken to their beds hours before.

"You want to fuck him," Wang Yan says.

Notes:

I have nothing to say for myself.

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

Work Text:

Wang Yan likes the soft sound of his best friend's laugh. Lan Jue always seems surprised by it, as if between one moment of merriment and the next, he'd forgotten he was capable of feeling joy.

"His face," Lan Jue is saying, shaking his head. "Surely we were never so earnest."

It is a fine night. The moon, once voluptuous on the horizon, is now high overhead, staring down as if perplexed by the sight of two men who ought to have taken to their beds hours before.

"You want to fuck him," Wang Yan says, timing the statement mercilessly.

As expected, Lan Jue sputters on a delicate sip of tea. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, looking as if he's considering throwing the cup at Wang Yan's head. "Mowen. He's only a boy."

"You were only a boy once." Wang Yan grins, warm at the memory of the first time Lan Jue stumbled onto his own desires. Lan Jue had been angry about something neither of them could recall now, and he'd shoved at Wang Yan ineffectively until his arms buckled and they were nose to nose. Wang Yan had taken Lan Jue by his hips and held him there until his anger evolved to a more productive form of heat.

"Regardless" Lan Jue says, his sleeve now hiding a flush, "I was not a fool."

"You've always been a fool," Wang Yan says affectionately. Lan Jue's foolishness is precisely why Wang Yan is still here and not sleeping for a while before dawn. Whatever the day brought Lan Jue, it left him vibrating like a string pulled too taut. When he's struggling for control, Lan Jue becomes a shade too outgoing, his smiles too frequent and too brittle. His eyes betray him, red-rimmed and haunted, as if he's certain a ghost stands over his shoulder, daring him to turn and look it in the eye. It vexes Wang Yan to see Lan Jue like this, and it worries him that others will notice his fraying edges.

So Wang Yan is here, unraveling the fool he loves.

"Then what does that make you?" Lan Jue asks, gaze sparkling.

"Ah ah, don't think you can distract me from the matter at hand. We were talking about young Zhang Ping. Do you imagine he's… proficient?"

"Don't be crude."

"If I were being crude, I'd ask about his—"

"Mowen!" Lan Jue chastises, unable to hide a smile. There's a hint of wildness just under the surface. Not for the first time, Wang Yan wonders what kind of man Lan Jue would have become if he'd ever wrestled out of the grip of his own demons.

Giving up on the notion of sleep, Wang Yan resolves to fuck Lan Jue tonight. Now it is only a matter of nudging him closer to that inevitability. "I could show him what you like," he offers in an even, smooth tone, as if they're discussing the way Lan Jue prefers his bath prepared.

"You're that certain of what I like?" Lan Jue asks, finger absently tapping on the rim of his tea cup.

"I am."

Lan Jue makes a noncommittal sound and doesn't bother hiding his flush this time.

"The real question is how well he takes direction. He's a hotheaded one, for certain. Whether he's proficient or not I'm sure he has some overblown sense of exactly how these affairs should play out." To demonstrate what he means, Wang Yan presses his palms into the edge of the low table, rattling it rhythmically, until Lan Jue laughs once more, shaking his head with unconvincing disapproval.

"Stop that. I have to work with him tomorrow. I can't be thinking about—"

"Bending over for him?"

Lan Jue does throw the cup. Wang Yan catches it and nests it neatly in his own. "Or climbing astride him?" he goes on. "That might be better, considering he'd have no notion of how to handle you."

"You are filthy and incorrigible," Lan Jue says, looking for more projectiles. Unfortunately, this is his garden, and these are his things. He appears to come up empty, and his gaze turns to Wang Yan, no longer haunted but hungry.

No one is around. Not at this time. When Wang Yang beckons, Lan Jue moves to his side of the table, gathering his sleeves to crawl, rather undignified, into Wang Yan's lap.

"Peizhi," Wang Yan says into Lan Jue's mouth, glad for the taste of it, the ease with which they fit together. Whatever they are, Wang Yan feels at home like this, taking Lan Jue's hair down and tickling him and biting him until he appears to forget what he's determined to do, who he's determined to be to do it.

They make their way inside and fall into Lan Jue's bed. Undressing is surprisingly finicky, both having outgrown the expensive tendency to rip buttons and seams. Wang Yan allows himself to be disrobed first so he can take his time and further torment Lan Jue.

Trembling and patting Wang Yan's shoulders, Lan Jue demands, "Mowen."

"Patience," Wang Yan says, knowing Lan Jue's has worn thin, but also knowing that this is something he can lose his patience over without consequence. He winces and chuckles when Lan Jue pulls his hair, but he does not relent, and by the time his mouth finds Lan Jue's chest, he can hear the reedy wetness of unshed tears.

"You are being hateful," Lan Jue says, writhing.

Still coiled too tightly, then.

"I am not. Not yet," Wang Yan promises, before making good on it.

"It's only that I recognize what he's trying to do, I do," Lan Jue is saying, flat on his back now, his knees spread, his fingers twisted in Wang Yan's hair, his cock in Wang Yan's mouth. "I admire his principles, but his principles will get him killed, and I'm in no position to prevent that. It would be a shame, don't you think? A brilliant mind like that, a life cut short because he can't see past his own childish ego — your teeth, Mowen, ow!"

"What about my teeth?" Wang Yan asks, biting Lan Jue's inner thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. He uses his hand on Lan Jue, uses his thumb to tease him, uses his fingers to open him until Lan Jue can't remember what else he had to say about that pretty, clever boy.

He enjoys softening Lan Jue, and waits until his stomach is painted with spend before he finds his own pleasure, sinking into the messiness of him. Lan Jue grabs onto him, pulling him deeper and closer, his eyes clenched tight.

"No," Wang Yan says gently, without breaking stride. "Look at me."

Sometimes when his eyes are closed, Lan Jue remains in the dark.

"Vain," Lan Jue mutters without feeling, doing as he's told. His mouth is red. His cheeks are wet. His gaze is fond, anchored.

"It is not my fault I was born talented and very handsome," Wang Yan points out, starting to struggle to hold a conversation. He allows his breath to take hold, gives into the chase and the way Lan Jue feels wriggling and sweaty beneath him, around him. Together, they enter that exquisite place full of so much shapeless sound and formless pleasure that no thoughts can take hold.

Time stretches out and snaps back into place, leaving them both panting and sprawled side by side, seeking the cool touch of night air.

"I'd like to see him try," Wang Yan mumbles, quite satisfied with his achievements.

Peizhi laughs.

Notes:

Please talk to me about A League of Nobleman I'm locked but not like... locked.