Work Text:
“It’s true,” Wanyin’s face is hot red, blooming like a flower, but his words are full; inarguable, unshy. He noses at Wangji’s ear, brushing barely, friction of untouched skin shooting shivers down Lan Wangji’s spine. “I love you.”
Lan Wangji smiles then, more like baring teeth, but it’s as close to a smile as Lan Wangji could ever get.
Years of built up tension, hesitant touches, hidden words, and suddenly, here, they are just two kids again, standing on the pavilion where they first met, still barely touching, still teasing, still waiting for the words on Wanyin’s tongue to be consummated on Lan Wangji’s.
Everyone must be so tired of them by now. These dancing fools with lingering hands, oblivious to all but their own feelings, their own desires, encapsulated in a fear and shame which held no substance in the end. And this is that end, isn’t it? The proverbial ‘to that end’. That end that finds Wangyin’s cheek flittering against Lan Wangji’s temple. That end with all the tension of their years, doubled, tripled— Wangji clenches his hands into fists, willing to control himself, willing to not let up just how much he’s wanted this, just how much is bubbling beneath his bones, begging to burst like oblivion if only he wasn’t so scared it would scare the other man away.
“I love you,” Wanyin repeats, a satisfied drawl breathing hot against Wangji’s skin.
Wangji holds his breath. Tries to hold still. Practise that self restraint he’s always been so proud of.
Except Wanyin puffs another breath of air into his neck, a little breath of laughter, spelling relief, expelling a certain bubbling of joy, of happiness, that Lan Wangji recognises wholly in his own heart. And Lan Wangji can’t take it anymore. Whatever Lan Wangji feels, Wanyin will just have to take it. He’ll have to accept what he’s done, who he’s undone, what Wangji is about to do.
“I love you much more.”
And he’ll prove it. Wangji takes Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders in a powerful grip, easing it at Wanyin’s following gasp and then, then, then,
he brings his lips down to Wanyin’s ear, the place where it meets his jaw, pressing softly first before baring his teeth in that smile again—grazing needily with his teeth, then his tongue, until Jiang Wanyin is gasping, gasping, gasping and Lan Wangji takes it into his mouth, those sweet sounds.
Meeting Wanyin’s lips, how Wangji’s head feels so full. A blanket of warmth and buzzing energy taking over his whole head.
Jiang Wanyin’s mouth is warm and sticky. His tongue is lithe and receptive. Wangji’s hands ghost over Wanyin’s face; when he realises there is no need for lingering anymore, his hands finally fall comfortably over Wanyin’s skin, pressing hard and pulling the man closer, tighter, mouths smacking and dripping with mishandled saliva—Wanyin’s hand wipes at their chins and smears the slick of their mouths over Wangji’s cheek on its way up to his nape.
The wind is cold on the wet streak, a disgusting feeling Wangji is not yet used to. But somehow, that it is their combined distaste, the work of their mixed tongues; Wangji finds himself indulging in the sickening cool, the wet consistency of the discharge from their mouths.
Wangji only leaves Wanyin’s lips long enough to breathe the words between smatterings of pecks and kisses:
“Love you, love you,” he can’t seem to decide what feels better; loving Wanyin, or letting him know it. “Love, love, love Wanyin,” and it’s so worth it to hear the drawl in Wanyin’s groans, rumbling down his throat.
“Mine. Wanyin, mine,”
Jiang Wanyin’s grip tightens around Lan Wangji’s nape, then. He pulls Wangji off his lips. Their eyes meet, breaths fogging the air between their mouths.
Wanyin smiles, and it’s a perfect smile.
A dangerous sneer that makes everything in Wangji’s body fizzle and jump with excitement and satisfaction. Wanyin smiles and Wangji looks, looks, looks,
and Wanyin says, so simply:
“Yours.”