Someone surely is but Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw and hands, angry
at himself.
"I think it's happened before the hunt," he replies, terse as he continues
to stride into the teahouse.
He nearly bites off the head of the server that asks how many of them would
require the table. Luckily, they're quickly shuffled to a table for just
the two of them. Jiang Cheng sets down a tael for tea and some cakes to be
brought out to them, looking nearly anywhere except for his guest. How is
it hotter here when there's barely any patrons?
"Before the hunt?" Xichen falls in step, having to speed up to keep up with his companion.
He keeps quiet as Jiang Wanyin takes the lead inside of the in and they are guided to a private table, he thanks the staff that helps them and lets them know that they will signal if they need anything else. Then his attention turns wholly to the younger man, takes in the flush of his skin and the way he cannot sit still. He has not touched his tea, though he'd been the one to order it. "Wanyin, what is affecting you? You look as if you are getting worse... We should not be on the night hunt if you were afflicted before."
He barely suppresses a shiver through him when Lan Xichen calls for him. It
must be him. And only when he says his name. He clenches his teeth more and
curls his hand into a fist on the table. Damn it, he can control his own
desires. Why is it that it feels that his voice sinks under his skin and
caresses him so intimately? And only when he says his name?
"I'm fine," he grits out. "I just...need to concentrate to ignore
it."
And it's certainly not a condition he should be speaking about in public,
no matter how private their table is. Jiang Cheng reaches for his tea cup
to sip at the drink, hoping it would somehow cool his blood. He doesn't
think about Lan Xichen sitting so close by or his hands or his lips or
his--Jiang Cheng curses himself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts.
The man had just left seclusion!
"You are not fine," Xichen says and finally reaches across the table, but stops short when Wanyin goes for his drink. His hand rests on the table between them, too bold for what he'd intended. There is a hint of frustration in his voice but there is mostly worry for his friend, a man he cannot deny he wants more from even if it is not his place to ask for anything beyond friendship.
Wanyin has been so kind to him. "What is happening?"
The other man looks flushed, as if he is in pain. That worries Lan Xichen, who wishes to soothe and help with what he can. "If you are injured, we can ask for a room and I can attempt to assist."
The only pain he's feeling is how hard he is underneath his robes. He
shifts so that it wouldn't be obvious to anyone looking at him. With the
cup set back down again, he continues to avoid Lan Xichen's gaze.
"I'm not injured," he snaps.
But the allure of the privacy of a room might allow him to take care of the
problem. Jiang Cheng gives a jerky nod. If he explains it, then Lan Xichen
could be polite and let him have half an hour in peace. He sincerely hopes
that's all it'll take to make this ridiculous problem go away.
Sadly, none of this reveals the problem to Lan Xichen. He looks at the other man with worry, gaze critical as he takes him in.
With his flushed skin, his neck exposed -- Well, Jiang Wanyin does not look decent. But he is hurting, Xichen can tell that much, so he does not let his mind stray to the thoughts that threaten to take hold.
He calls to one of the attendants after Wanyin nods and asks if they have a room available; and assures the attendant that apologizes for the fact the only room they have has only a small seating area and one bed, that it is alright. They don't need it for long, he hopes, and it is only to ensure that his companion is not too injured. He does not provide the details though, there is no need to share stories of a sect leader's injuries with a stranger.
The attendant runs to prepare their rooms and when he returns, offers to show them the way. Xichen stands, looks over at Wanyin with a furrowed brow. He does not seem to be faring better. "Wanyin, do you need help? You can lean on me if you need," he offers his hand.
Jiang Cheng levels the attendant with a glare that promises a world of pain
if he says anything of his condition. He raises himself up halfway when
Xichen says his name again. Another gasp and a swallowed moan threaten to
escape him.
Having no choice, he grabs Xichenβs hand and grits his teeth.
This time, Xichen is too focused on catching his companion and helping him stand to voice his worry. He helps Jiang Wanyin up, keeps support of his arm and helps him walk as the attendant leads them to the room.
The man hurries forward, showing them to a room which houses one very large bed but a small seating area. the purpose is quite clear, though xichen doesn't acknowledge it as the man tells them that he will bring anything they need. he dismisses him with a dip of the head, focuses on his fellow sect leader. "Let's get you to bed?" he says softly, worry seeping to each word. "Your condition seems to be worsening rapidly."
He waits until the attendant leaves and until he's sure that no one is
outside the doors and could hear them. He relaxes his grip of Xichen's
hand. Being honest would be the best thing to do.
"Just don't...say my name."
He frowns deeply and gingerly sits on the bed, curling over himself.
"Something happened on the night hunt, I'm not sure what. But anytime you
say my name, it...does things. So with all due respect, Zewu Jun, please
afford me some privacy to deal with the effects."
"Your name?" Xichen frowns, looking at the other man with brows knit close.
"What does it do?" If he understands, surely he can help fix this and perhaps understand what can be done to reverse this. The confusion remains until Jiang Wanyin elaborates and then realization hits as the man curls over himself.
The way he's flushed, how he's moved since they'd made it downstairs.
Ah.
"I must apologize, W-- Sect Leader Jiang," he tries, flustered and heat rising up his neck as he stands in front of the other man. He's said the others name so many times in the last few hours, distracted by the sight of him and enjoying his company. "I didn't realize." He wasn't meant to, he knows, but he is sorry for the discomfort he has caused. "If you remember any details of what happened before this started perhaps I can see if... anyone has heard of such a thing happening before?"
Just the sound is like a gentle caress. He swears quietly; not even his
full name and thereβs an effect. He swallows,trying his best to not stare
at the man before him. When did Lan Xichen smell so good?
βA little difficult to think at the moment,β he manages to grit out.
"I will wait outside then? Or downstairs?" he offers, reaching out forward to give Jiang Wanyin's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He hopes that this does add oil to the flames he's already fanned.
"If there is anything that comes to mind, if this is not resolved now, I will make sure a cure is found," he says it softly, but certainly. "As long as this is not caused by the statue in the temple we were in earlier, all should be alright." He had said not to touch anything when they were inside, aware of what trouble lay inside, and he had not seen anything occur but now Lan Xichen worries.
There's a large part of him that wants to scream no and have Lan Xichen
stay right here and help him but his pride stops him from doing so. Jiang
Cheng grits his teeth, dangerously close to breaking them. The statue?
Through the red haze that settles over his mind, there's something to Lan
Xichen's words. The trinket that day that he had been hit with before they
escaped the temple.
"No, not the temple earlier today," he gasps out.
Somehow it sounds far more shameless than he had intended. He swallows
another moan.
Xichen shouldn't move closer, knows he's exasturbating the issue but he cannot help the concern. The other man is in pain and Xichen is the cause.
Yet he remains close, the hand that was on Wanyin's shoulder reaches out and he brushes the back of his hand against the other man's cheek. He's warm, burning even. "Wan---" he stops himself, gasps and shakes his head. If it's not from the temple earlier, he is not sure what it could be.
Yet, if it is something simialr-- he cannot hold back what he knows. "You are growing more feverish. We will find the cause later, I will leave you... though I fear that if my saying your name is causing this pain then it will not abate the issue."
He gasps when he hears just half of his name roll off of Lan Xichen's lips.
His pupils are blown and his lips are bitten red from holding in moans. His
cheeks are flushed and his resolve is delicate. There's a large part of him
that wants to shout NO and beg for him to stay, take him, taste him.
He licks his lips.
His feet move without him and Jiang Cheng is halfway across the room,
striding toward Lan Xichen before he realizes what is happening.
"Zewu Jun," he gasps, "...Lan Xichen," he growls out, lust dripping in his
voice. "Please."
He doesn't know what he's pleading for; Xichen's mouth, his hand,
his--Jiang Cheng gasps again and tries to stop himself from finishing that
line of thought.
And that, well, that is enough to confirm at least some of Lan Xichen's worry. He turns around, faces the younger sect leader.
Jiang Wanyin is handsome normally. Like this, with his hair pulled from his neck, flushed and wanting, he's beautiful Xichen wants him no matter his appearance, but he is not made of jade and this is too hard to resist. Still, there are lines that he does not want to cross.
"I fear that this is tied us more severely than I thought," he says careful, swallowing as he steps closer. "If the curse won't allow you to let me leave, I am afraid that it won't be satisfied without me." Careful, as if treading next to a creature that could run or attack. "If I stay, I would be taking advantage of your state... but I fear what will happen if I leave."
For a brief moment, there's clarity and Jiang Cheng silently pleads, begs
for forgiveness. He clutches the edge of a table with a white knuckled
grip. Sweat beads at his brow and he is barely able to hear what Lan Xichen
is saying because his eyes fall to the older man's lips and his mind
fizzles out, focusing on how plus they are. He blinks when he hears the
word leave and grits his teeth to keep from reaching and keeping him in the
room.
"If you are staying out of duty, then leave."
His pride still stands in the way. He couldn't look at him if it was out of
pity.
Lan Xichen can feel the other's gaze on him, feels the way the cool air of the room dissipates and warmth radiates through it. Wanyin is a beacon of it, of something burning bright and Xichen is drawn to the flame.
He can tell that the man is struggling, that the curse afflicting him is burning through him with increasing speed. That leaving would be a disservice, though it would be the right thing to do. The question though means that Jiang Wanyin is still mentally present enough, that the thought of this being out of duty is the thing that jars his pride and brings him back to his sense --- which means that perhaps
Xichen needs to know. "If not out of duty, would you want me to stay?"
Shame barely touches him at the admittance. Jinag Cheng gasps and reaches
up to undo and take down the crown and his ponytail, not wanting that on
him. His hands shake as it moves towards his belt. He lets out an anguished
moan and leans against the table, panting harshly and trying to take in
deep lungfuls of air to somehow maintain his sanity.
The word is overshadowed by the desperation with which he sees Jiang Wanyin pull out his guan, then release his hair. It's intimate, to see him like this, though not as intimate than what they must do to sate the curse coursing through the Jiang sect leader's veins.
"Then I'll stay," he says with certainty, stepping closer. "Let me help you," he is careful to avoid the younger man's name as he stands before him, reaches to cup his cheek and wipe the sheen of sweat away. His other hand catches both of Wanyin's as he fumbles with his belt, stopping the efforts for now.
His eyes flutter closed at gentle, so gentle, touch to his cheek and a
whimper escapes him at being moved. Hot. Everything is so hot. So
unbearably hot that he barely has a shred of his sanity left.
"Yes," he pants. "Yes, help me. Touch me, take me, taste me."
"Where do you need me, Wanyin?" And that's cruel, isn't it? Xichen realizes as he leans forward to graze his lips over the corner of Wanyin's mouth. This is what he wants, Xichen knows. It is also what he himself wants and it feels -- well, there is a wrongness to this.
This is not how he wants this bond forged, but he will not forsake it.
He pushes Wanyin's hands away, so he can work the ties of his belt for him.
If his hands weren't being held, Jiang Cheng would have ripped off his
clothes at the purring of his name. Again, it's like a direct lover's
caress to his nerves, sending his blood on fire. He pants hotly and moans
as the ties of his belt are worked. As soon as it's loose, he grabs it and
tosses it into a corner of the room. Then he reaches for the ties of his
vambraces, trying to tear every stitch of clothing off of himself.
"Everywhere," he snaps, "I need you everywhere. I need you to touch me, to
fuck me," he moans deeply.
"I can do that." Xichen wants to, wants to touch everywhere and have this man. It is because of a curse, he knows, but he will not throw away this chance if it is something that Wanyin wants beyond it.
He works the remaining ties of Wanyin's outer layer, peels back what he can and helps the other divest himself from heavy fabrics without focus to himself. There's something heady about this, of being left still dressed as a lover stands bare before him.
The silk practically peels off of Jiang Cheng from how hot he's burning. As
soon as the last layer falls away and he's left bare to Lan Xichen's gaze,
he's panting harshly and gripping the table behind him to stay upright. His
cock is flushed and hot and hard, curving up against his stomach. He
watches the other man as he reaches and gives himself a slow, firm stroke,
moaning at his own touch. Jiang Cheng can't hold the gaze for long as his
head drops back and he moans.
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Someone surely is but Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw and hands, angry at himself.
"I think it's happened before the hunt," he replies, terse as he continues to stride into the teahouse.
He nearly bites off the head of the server that asks how many of them would require the table. Luckily, they're quickly shuffled to a table for just the two of them. Jiang Cheng sets down a tael for tea and some cakes to be brought out to them, looking nearly anywhere except for his guest. How is it hotter here when there's barely any patrons?
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He keeps quiet as Jiang Wanyin takes the lead inside of the in and they are guided to a private table, he thanks the staff that helps them and lets them know that they will signal if they need anything else. Then his attention turns wholly to the younger man, takes in the flush of his skin and the way he cannot sit still. He has not touched his tea, though he'd been the one to order it. "Wanyin, what is affecting you? You look as if you are getting worse... We should not be on the night hunt if you were afflicted before."
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Wanyin.
He barely suppresses a shiver through him when Lan Xichen calls for him. It must be him. And only when he says his name. He clenches his teeth more and curls his hand into a fist on the table. Damn it, he can control his own desires. Why is it that it feels that his voice sinks under his skin and caresses him so intimately? And only when he says his name?
"I'm fine," he grits out. "I just...need to concentrate to ignore it."
And it's certainly not a condition he should be speaking about in public, no matter how private their table is. Jiang Cheng reaches for his tea cup to sip at the drink, hoping it would somehow cool his blood. He doesn't think about Lan Xichen sitting so close by or his hands or his lips or his--Jiang Cheng curses himself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts. The man had just left seclusion!
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Wanyin has been so kind to him. "What is happening?"
The other man looks flushed, as if he is in pain. That worries Lan Xichen, who wishes to soothe and help with what he can. "If you are injured, we can ask for a room and I can attempt to assist."
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The only pain he's feeling is how hard he is underneath his robes. He shifts so that it wouldn't be obvious to anyone looking at him. With the cup set back down again, he continues to avoid Lan Xichen's gaze.
"I'm not injured," he snaps.
But the allure of the privacy of a room might allow him to take care of the problem. Jiang Cheng gives a jerky nod. If he explains it, then Lan Xichen could be polite and let him have half an hour in peace. He sincerely hopes that's all it'll take to make this ridiculous problem go away.
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With his flushed skin, his neck exposed -- Well, Jiang Wanyin does not look decent. But he is hurting, Xichen can tell that much, so he does not let his mind stray to the thoughts that threaten to take hold.
He calls to one of the attendants after Wanyin nods and asks if they have a room available; and assures the attendant that apologizes for the fact the only room they have has only a small seating area and one bed, that it is alright. They don't need it for long, he hopes, and it is only to ensure that his companion is not too injured. He does not provide the details though, there is no need to share stories of a sect leader's injuries with a stranger.
The attendant runs to prepare their rooms and when he returns, offers to show them the way. Xichen stands, looks over at Wanyin with a furrowed brow. He does not seem to be faring better. "Wanyin, do you need help? You can lean on me if you need," he offers his hand.
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Jiang Cheng levels the attendant with a glare that promises a world of pain if he says anything of his condition. He raises himself up halfway when Xichen says his name again. Another gasp and a swallowed moan threaten to escape him.
Having no choice, he grabs Xichenβs hand and grits his teeth.
βJust get us to the room.β
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The man hurries forward, showing them to a room which houses one very large bed but a small seating area. the purpose is quite clear, though xichen doesn't acknowledge it as the man tells them that he will bring anything they need. he dismisses him with a dip of the head, focuses on his fellow sect leader. "Let's get you to bed?" he says softly, worry seeping to each word. "Your condition seems to be worsening rapidly."
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"Just..."
He waits until the attendant leaves and until he's sure that no one is outside the doors and could hear them. He relaxes his grip of Xichen's hand. Being honest would be the best thing to do.
"Just don't...say my name."
He frowns deeply and gingerly sits on the bed, curling over himself.
"Something happened on the night hunt, I'm not sure what. But anytime you say my name, it...does things. So with all due respect, Zewu Jun, please afford me some privacy to deal with the effects."
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"What does it do?" If he understands, surely he can help fix this and perhaps understand what can be done to reverse this. The confusion remains until Jiang Wanyin elaborates and then realization hits as the man curls over himself.
The way he's flushed, how he's moved since they'd made it downstairs.
Ah.
"I must apologize, W-- Sect Leader Jiang," he tries, flustered and heat rising up his neck as he stands in front of the other man. He's said the others name so many times in the last few hours, distracted by the sight of him and enjoying his company. "I didn't realize." He wasn't meant to, he knows, but he is sorry for the discomfort he has caused. "If you remember any details of what happened before this started perhaps I can see if... anyone has heard of such a thing happening before?"
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Just the sound is like a gentle caress. He swears quietly; not even his full name and thereβs an effect. He swallows,trying his best to not stare at the man before him. When did Lan Xichen smell so good?
βA little difficult to think at the moment,β he manages to grit out.
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"If there is anything that comes to mind, if this is not resolved now, I will make sure a cure is found," he says it softly, but certainly. "As long as this is not caused by the statue in the temple we were in earlier, all should be alright." He had said not to touch anything when they were inside, aware of what trouble lay inside, and he had not seen anything occur but now Lan Xichen worries.
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There's a large part of him that wants to scream no and have Lan Xichen stay right here and help him but his pride stops him from doing so. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, dangerously close to breaking them. The statue? Through the red haze that settles over his mind, there's something to Lan Xichen's words. The trinket that day that he had been hit with before they escaped the temple.
"No, not the temple earlier today," he gasps out.
Somehow it sounds far more shameless than he had intended. He swallows another moan.
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Yet he remains close, the hand that was on Wanyin's shoulder reaches out and he brushes the back of his hand against the other man's cheek. He's warm, burning even. "Wan---" he stops himself, gasps and shakes his head. If it's not from the temple earlier, he is not sure what it could be.
Yet, if it is something simialr-- he cannot hold back what he knows. "You are growing more feverish. We will find the cause later, I will leave you... though I fear that if my saying your name is causing this pain then it will not abate the issue."
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He gasps when he hears just half of his name roll off of Lan Xichen's lips. His pupils are blown and his lips are bitten red from holding in moans. His cheeks are flushed and his resolve is delicate. There's a large part of him that wants to shout NO and beg for him to stay, take him, taste him. He licks his lips.
His feet move without him and Jiang Cheng is halfway across the room, striding toward Lan Xichen before he realizes what is happening.
"Zewu Jun," he gasps, "...Lan Xichen," he growls out, lust dripping in his voice. "Please."
He doesn't know what he's pleading for; Xichen's mouth, his hand, his--Jiang Cheng gasps again and tries to stop himself from finishing that line of thought.
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Jiang Wanyin is handsome normally. Like this, with his hair pulled from his neck, flushed and wanting, he's beautiful Xichen wants him no matter his appearance, but he is not made of jade and this is too hard to resist. Still, there are lines that he does not want to cross.
"I fear that this is tied us more severely than I thought," he says careful, swallowing as he steps closer. "If the curse won't allow you to let me leave, I am afraid that it won't be satisfied without me." Careful, as if treading next to a creature that could run or attack. "If I stay, I would be taking advantage of your state... but I fear what will happen if I leave."
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For a brief moment, there's clarity and Jiang Cheng silently pleads, begs for forgiveness. He clutches the edge of a table with a white knuckled grip. Sweat beads at his brow and he is barely able to hear what Lan Xichen is saying because his eyes fall to the older man's lips and his mind fizzles out, focusing on how plus they are. He blinks when he hears the word leave and grits his teeth to keep from reaching and keeping him in the room.
"If you are staying out of duty, then leave."
His pride still stands in the way. He couldn't look at him if it was out of pity.
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He can tell that the man is struggling, that the curse afflicting him is burning through him with increasing speed. That leaving would be a disservice, though it would be the right thing to do. The question though means that Jiang Wanyin is still mentally present enough, that the thought of this being out of duty is the thing that jars his pride and brings him back to his sense --- which means that perhaps
Xichen needs to know. "If not out of duty, would you want me to stay?"
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"Yes."
Shame barely touches him at the admittance. Jinag Cheng gasps and reaches up to undo and take down the crown and his ponytail, not wanting that on him. His hands shake as it moves towards his belt. He lets out an anguished moan and leans against the table, panting harshly and trying to take in deep lungfuls of air to somehow maintain his sanity.
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The word is overshadowed by the desperation with which he sees Jiang Wanyin pull out his guan, then release his hair. It's intimate, to see him like this, though not as intimate than what they must do to sate the curse coursing through the Jiang sect leader's veins.
"Then I'll stay," he says with certainty, stepping closer. "Let me help you," he is careful to avoid the younger man's name as he stands before him, reaches to cup his cheek and wipe the sheen of sweat away. His other hand catches both of Wanyin's as he fumbles with his belt, stopping the efforts for now.
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His eyes flutter closed at gentle, so gentle, touch to his cheek and a whimper escapes him at being moved. Hot. Everything is so hot. So unbearably hot that he barely has a shred of his sanity left.
"Yes," he pants. "Yes, help me. Touch me, take me, taste me."
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This is not how he wants this bond forged, but he will not forsake it.
He pushes Wanyin's hands away, so he can work the ties of his belt for him.
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If his hands weren't being held, Jiang Cheng would have ripped off his clothes at the purring of his name. Again, it's like a direct lover's caress to his nerves, sending his blood on fire. He pants hotly and moans as the ties of his belt are worked. As soon as it's loose, he grabs it and tosses it into a corner of the room. Then he reaches for the ties of his vambraces, trying to tear every stitch of clothing off of himself.
"Everywhere," he snaps, "I need you everywhere. I need you to touch me, to fuck me," he moans deeply.
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He works the remaining ties of Wanyin's outer layer, peels back what he can and helps the other divest himself from heavy fabrics without focus to himself. There's something heady about this, of being left still dressed as a lover stands bare before him.
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The silk practically peels off of Jiang Cheng from how hot he's burning. As soon as the last layer falls away and he's left bare to Lan Xichen's gaze, he's panting harshly and gripping the table behind him to stay upright. His cock is flushed and hot and hard, curving up against his stomach. He watches the other man as he reaches and gives himself a slow, firm stroke, moaning at his own touch. Jiang Cheng can't hold the gaze for long as his head drops back and he moans.
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