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His first kiss tasted of sunshine and chrysanthemums.
Amidst the burnt shadows of the afternoon sun, Lan Wangji listens and observes the soft rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest, and with it, steadies his own pulsating heartbeat. His eyes are fixated to the single white and crushed bud in his hand. Their soft sighs and pants mingling together in the deep recesses of Phoenix Mountain is the only sound Lan Wangji hears. An uncanny silence, he remarks, as though they were insulated from the blaring life of competition between their sects.
One arm is wrapped securely around Wei Wuxian’s lower back, steadying him, while his own wrist is held captive. Wei Wuxian grasps him firmly, preventing him from tearing off and away to repent his actions. He finds he is unable to bring himself to look up to meet Wei Wuxian’s gaze—what will they reflect?
The very thought runs him cold. In his growing clarity, Lan Wangji falters before the realisation that he has not only broken a number of sect rules, but has also altered their relationship beyond repair. Will he understand me?
From his peripheral vision, he is just able to see Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, and the sight immediately brings him back to the warmth of his lips, and the bitter taste of flower dew, as he pried his mouth open with his tongue earlier. Lan Wangji licks his lips reflexively, and he wonders if Wei Ying’s lips are still dark red, glistening and slightly swollen from the intensity of their entwinement; feeling, as he visualises, his settling heat, quickly resurface.
Stop. It is enough, he laments, breaking out of his reverie. This was a mistake, and he had no means to fix; a problem he had no ways to prepare for. For the second time in his life, Lan Wangji had lost control. Only this time, it was he who started it.
***
Lan Wangji; Han Guangjun; one of the Twin Jade’s of Gusu—the never ending flow of titles mean very little to him; but for others, these names are a canvas of him. Lan Wangji as a person; Han Guangjun as a demeanour; the Twin Jade’s as a gait. He has for the most part, lived up to every name, every title, and to every expectation imparted unto him. For the most part, that has been the right way.
Since childhood he has been brought up to be prepared, self-sufficient, and the motto of his clan–Be Righteous, ingrained into him. Efficiency is a virtue; righteousness is a creed—and they came to him as naturally as breathing.
He is, however, never prepared for Wei Wuxian.
From their first meeting in the quiet depths of night, on the rooftops of Gusu; from their seven day ordeal with Xuanwu; even today, as he entered Phoenix Mountain, calm and undeterred, he found his composure shattered by a single peony.
Despite being well aware of Wei Wuxian’s flippant intentions; just the knowledge that it was Wei Ying who threw that peony to him, caused Lan Wangji to swallow down thrice the thick knot building inside his throat. He found himself following Wei Wuxian’s every expression, every crinkle and twinkle of his eyes as he laughed and teased Jiang Cheng, and observed how those lines deepened as he remarked at Jin Zixuan with disdain.
He knew, to every curious observer, he appeared no more than indifferent, perhaps even annoyed at Wei Wuxian’s usual silly antics. To his perceptive brother, he was feeling happy at the sight of his friend; but to Lan Wangji, he felt naked. From the very moment of his entrance; no, from the very sense of his presence, Lan Wangji was stripped of his composure, the discipline of his cultivation fell to tethers before him.
When his eyes did not permit him to follow Wei Wuxian, his heart was. From the silky flow of his ebony locks, to the glimmer of anger seemingly affixed now beneath the recesses of his cinereal eyes; Lan Wangji found himself desiring to know, to understand the new and unfamiliar shades of Wei Wuxian as much as the familiar.
Yet, he did not intend to do anything. He had wanted to simply talk, to–as he thought–simply understand him. At least, that is what Lan Wangji had managed to convince himself of.
***
“You’re here for the hunt?” said Wei Wuxian.
Lan Wangji watched Wei Wuxian’s relaxed and unguarded slump as he approached. His eyes unconsciously fixated on the pink and glimmering look of his lips. He memorised, carefully, how the corners of his mouth twitched at the presence of another, and how they curled upwards into the jerky and lopsided grin he knew...and desired. Lan Wangji remembered how often he had been infuriated by the same grin; the one plastered on the face of a curious and playful fifteen year old boy; and the same one that made him shudder with heat a thousand times over.
In his haste, he had shoved Wei Wuxian harshly against the tree, and he savoured him with a ferocity and intensity that would invoke his instant banishment from Gusu. Lan Wangji knew a part of him had snapped, but he did nothing to stop it, and he let his discipline watch his primitive desires run amok from afar.
With every second of contact, he felt the desire to explore deeper, to press forward, to grind harder and parse any distance between their bodies.
When Wei Wuxian had ceased to struggle, it was as though his body had waited for this cue, and he moved in, prying apart Wei Wuxian’s moist lips with his. He dipped his tongue in, seeking to explore every side, every corner, to learn, and to understand.
***
And it was with the same flush of cold desire, catalysed by the single bud sticking out from his breast pocket that pulled Lan Wangji’s mind and discipline back into consciousness.
Despite growing up with the walls of rules and rigidity enforced around him, he also grew up with the vignettes of his mother’s teaching. She imparted upon him stories of love, of companionship, and of one’s first kiss.
It is the culmination of love, she had said, an expression reserved for your one and only; a sign of you baring your heart and of them, taking it in. Your first kiss, she had said, is as sacred as your forehead ribbon. It is reserved for your one special person, and it will make you feel so full, yet so empty; so right, yet so wrong, she had concluded, with a smile that spoke of the finality of her words.
Lan Wangji never truly understood her words, but now he feels like he finally does, as his heart laid naked, thrusted before Wei Wuxian’s palms. Yet, what his mother had failed to explain, he noted with dismay, was the utter turmoil he was experiencing, boiling through his depths and threatening to coerce him into another rampage. In his sudden surge of jealousy at the sight of the peony, he had lost his chance at escape, as Wei Wuxian grabbed his wrist and ripped off his blindfold, coming face to face with a distraught Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji was caught, and there was nothing he could do about it.
***
“Lan Zh–” Wei Wuxian began, unable to contain his silence any longer. His voice was hoarse and croaky from their tryst. Lan Wangji’s stomach lurched again in admonishment at his own unseemly action. He had stolen, as the realisation loomed over him ever clearer, possibly Wei Ying’s first kiss. His heart lurched with his stomach at the thought, and he felt a dire desire well up to confirm that fact.
“Lan Zha–” he began again, and despite his usual lack of words, it was with effort that Lan Wangji suppressed the sudden surge of words threatening to tumble out. Before Wei Wuxian could finish, Lan Wangji had freed himself from his hand and untied his ribbon. His forehead ribbon.
--
Surrounded by the rustle of leaves as a light breeze flew by, he ties, in two swift movements, the most pivotal relic of his sect around Wei Wuxian’s hands still hovering in mid-air. Their robes, contrasting greatly in colour and billowing in the same direction, pattered left, pattered right.
His hands tremor at the realisation of his actions, and the audacity he had to do that after everything. The silence is permeable and the warm glow of the afternoon sun feels like a lie beside the shadows on his skin. Lan Wangji feels horror envelop him, both worried and fearful at Wei Wuxian’s continued silence. It was too uncharacteristic of him; even when in shock. He could only hope the tremors in his fingers and the brevity of his actions would be enough to convey the sincerity of his feelings. He was in love. He knew that now.
In fact, he had known that years before, perhaps since the slaughter of Xuanwu; perhaps when he pulled him onto Bichen and into his arms at Caiyi town; perhaps it was when he watched Wei Ying’s eyes bright with laughter, as he tore his obscene artbook during supervision. Perhaps even, Lan Wangji reminisced with growing fondness, it was when they met for the first time beneath the moonlight, his laugh jingling as he held with pride, the jug of Emperors Smile.
A soft peck of fingers, brushed over his still moist lips.
Before he could react, Wei Wuxian croaks out, “Lan Zhan”.
His voice was hoarse sounding utterly dehydrated, but there was no consternation, no anger, just a gentle murmur and tinge of curiosity. The lack of resentment he hears, surprises Lan Wangji into looking up. And he immediately repents at the ravished and dishevelled sight of Wei Wuxian, but his despondence drifts off, as he soaks in the tenderness in eyes. None of Wei Wuxian’s usual amusement is there, but his eyes are gentle, questioning, and a touch concerned.
“Lan Zhan,” he began again, “are you okay?” and he paints with his tongue, a layer of moisture over his lips.
…
“Do you know how long I have been vying for your attention, Lan Zhan?” he says, a playful twinkle slowly returning to the creases of his eyes. Still processing the turn of events, Wei Wuxian continues, “Lan Zhan-ah, Lan Zhan, why has it taken you so many years to get to this point, look how much time has gone by.”
“Ah, but that’s okay, I know you’re very uptight and all, and normal methods never would’ve worked out, so it’s okay.”
…
“Lan Zhan?” he says again, the concern in his voice more prominent at Lan Wangji’s continued silence. As he stretches out his tied wrists, he stops midair when Lan Wangji suddenly brings his palm forward, and brushes his cheeks with the lightest touch of his fingertips.
He could not help himself. Lan Wangji could feel every molecule in his body slowly rising, forming goosebumps, as if in delayed reaction to Wei Wuxian’s words. The shadows of cold and fear slowly fall off his robes and open his body to the sunlight, dappling them both in leaves amidst the forest clearing away from sound and the glory of competition. They were insulated here with one another, basking in each other’s light, and soaking in each other’s warmth.
He tucks a strand of Wei Ying’s hair behind his ears, gentle and careful. He feels Wei Ying tense from the sudden light tickle of Lan Zhan’s fingertips across his cheek, but says nothing to stop him.
“You...were vying for my attention?” he says, as he finally finds the strength to speak, all the while his fingers remain stroking Wei Ying’s jaws delicately.
“Mmn, I was,” Wei Ying says, leaning his face into his fingers.
“...And you...wanted me to do this?” his own voice no more than a whisper.
“I still do.”
...
“Do you have any idea how much I love saying your name?”
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-ah”
...
Before he had more time to process, Wei Wuxian continued. “But also, don’t you feel sorry for me Lan Zhan? All this time, look how much effort I’ve had to put in to get here! All these years...”
Lan Wangji could tell he was relaxed now. Wei Ying’s lips, still plump and moist from their entwinement, gazed up into Lan Wangji’s dark, dilated pupils, and he saw a sense of his usual amusement starting to play between the wrinkles of his eyes. The tension from their kiss earlier had sapped Wei Ying’s physical energy, and flamed his own desires, but clearly it was not enough to sew the energy of his wit. The realisation almost brought a giggle out of him and he felt a new surge of emotion rising from the pit of his stomach, one that satisfied the sense of fulfilment his mother had taught him during their time together.
“Lan Zhan! Did you just smirk at me?”
“How could you—”
Lan Wangji smothered the remainder of Wei Ying’s sentence, parsing their lips together, leaving no room for breath nor whimper. He was feeling so, so full, as he levered Wei Ying’s tied wrists over his head, and pulled him into a hug. It was another kiss, he thought with amazement at the development before his eyes, and he pressed forward with more urgency, closing the last remaining space between their bodies. He cupped Wei Ying’s face and traced his fingers over his jawline, down the nape of his neck and smoothed out any lines of tension he could get his hands on. He felt Wei Ying begin to go pliant in his arms, and he hitched him higher onto the branch, leveraging him with more support all the while their tongues still tangled to each other.
Just a moment ago, which now felt like a lifetime ago, Lan Wangji had never been more nervous, more fearful in his life. He had planned to leave; in fact, tried to leave, yet, here he still was, facing the most exuberant and beautiful person he knows alive. And it was with all the fondness in his heart that he closed his eyes once again to indulge in fully—his Wei Wuxian.