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    Summary

    "Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, and his voice shakes, just a bit. Five slender silver rods, each only about the length of Wei Wuxian's index finger, shine in the lamplight, bright against the dark silk, and tucked at the end of the bundle, a tiny stoppered glass bottle. "Lan Zhan, those won't fit."

    Lan Zhan grasps the bottle and one of the rods - not one of the smooth ones, but made up of beads - in one hand, then rolls up the bundle again and sets it aside. He turns back, gaze heated and hungry as he stares Wei Wuxian full in the face, intent on where Wei Wuxian chews his lower lip fretfully.

    "Wei Ying used to say the same about my cock," Lan Zhan says, low, and uses his current position, kneeling between Wei Wuxian's spread legs, to thrust once. His cock drags against Wei Wuxian's passage, the pressure and overstimulation leaving Wei Wuxian shivering. "Besides, you agreed to this. Are you breaking your promise?"

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