( There: Wei Ying subdued, molten and exquisitely placid and poised even as he succumbs to the call to rest. Slowly, in increments, Lan Wangji wilts around him, mouths pressing obliviously and calling to each other like planets coaxing strange things within orbit, and the constellation of tacitly surrendered moans and half-stifled breaths is an eruption of vagaries of sound.
At some turn, when the storm threatens to break, but only hastens, and the quiet of tension bursts their eardrums, and petrichor kindles in the air like fresh incense, bloomed — his hands remember themselves, the art of caressing, of whispering his husband close to pleasure, of teasing, pacifying, stroking. He is not... for the lazy, easy application of effort, not for anything but his thumbs chasing the jutting frame of Wei Ying's hips, for kisses rounded under his ear's lobe.
Not for diplomacy, not for sensible conduct — not when Jin Guangyao played a reasonable game, and treachery is simple, extortion consummate, and Wei Ying, poor Wei Ying, never did learn. )
Grant me a child, when we truly settle.
( Returned to their home, Cloud Recesses or the road, or whether it is that Wei Ying wishes their roots bound. It is unfair to ask, when they are tangled, to command, as if this does not require a conversation with a man barely awoken to the reality of his decades-long matrimony.
He should, at the very least, afford Wei Ying the dignity of considering this without the distraction at very literal hand, without his silks parting. Well, family enlargements do start in beds. )
no subject
( There: Wei Ying subdued, molten and exquisitely placid and poised even as he succumbs to the call to rest. Slowly, in increments, Lan Wangji wilts around him, mouths pressing obliviously and calling to each other like planets coaxing strange things within orbit, and the constellation of tacitly surrendered moans and half-stifled breaths is an eruption of vagaries of sound.
At some turn, when the storm threatens to break, but only hastens, and the quiet of tension bursts their eardrums, and petrichor kindles in the air like fresh incense, bloomed — his hands remember themselves, the art of caressing, of whispering his husband close to pleasure, of teasing, pacifying, stroking. He is not... for the lazy, easy application of effort, not for anything but his thumbs chasing the jutting frame of Wei Ying's hips, for kisses rounded under his ear's lobe.
Not for diplomacy, not for sensible conduct — not when Jin Guangyao played a reasonable game, and treachery is simple, extortion consummate, and Wei Ying, poor Wei Ying, never did learn. )
Grant me a child, when we truly settle.
( Returned to their home, Cloud Recesses or the road, or whether it is that Wei Ying wishes their roots bound. It is unfair to ask, when they are tangled, to command, as if this does not require a conversation with a man barely awoken to the reality of his decades-long matrimony.
He should, at the very least, afford Wei Ying the dignity of considering this without the distraction at very literal hand, without his silks parting. Well, family enlargements do start in beds. )