one_note | [popdrop

[he's sore, aching, but in a deeply good way; he'd wanted to give him something important that they'd both remember, not just keep taking. turns more onto his side so they can gather each other in comfortably, warm and sticky]

...

Good, for you?

[resumes brushing his fingers through his hair]

It feels unfair to ask that kind of question when my answer is so obvious. Of course it was amazing! I like being able to feel you like this.

I was worried for your poor bottom, but you reap what you sow. I won't feel bad no matter how sore it is later.

I like it.

[ghosts a kiss over his cheek, his forehead, voice a low hum between them]

Have not tried before, in memory. Wished to, with you.

[it sends a strange wave of smug giddiness washing through him to think that, at least in this, he was Lan Wangji's first. he didn't think it would mean much until faced with the reality of being his first; now he's hungry for more of them]

Try whatever you like with me. I'll do all of it!

Shameless.

[there's no bite in it; his eyes are lidded almost shut, the set of his neutral expression oddly soft, their bodies tangled together]

Don't you like that about me?

[lets his voice go softer, so it's no more than a murmur as he flutters kisses over whatever bit of skin his lips can find]

It's frustrating to think that I can't find the right words to say when they're needed. But if I can show you what you mean to me like this then I'm happy. It's a place to start until I can find those words.

[almost a whisper, into his hair -- his heart squeezed at those words, and it doesn't seem like he can get enough air for a moment]

Mark the actions.

Just so.

I don't want to ruin it by using words either, but...is it fine to ask you a question?

[strokes a hand down Wei Wuxian's side, a long soothing gesture]

Ask.

You can ask me one too if you'd like.

[pauses to consider the question]

Why is the cultivation of gentians considered a secret?

[he's just quiet for a very long time, though he doesn't tense or try to leave Wei Wuxian's arms...]

[doesn't ask the question again. whether he chooses to answer or not, Wei Wuxian doesn't move. it was a secret, after all; he won't press when he knows the struggle of speaking about them through firsthand experience.]

[very low and soft, so much that Wei Wuxian wouldn't catch it if he weren't so close]

Mother loved them. Grew them.

[nods; it matches with the bits of memory he's seen, and with the secrets Lan Wangji offered up]

The memory of her, and the things she loved, must be very important to you.

She was prisoner until I was six.

[his arms tighten around him]

Why?

She was not part of the Lan sect.

Killed a teacher, who instructed her and Father.

Father married her, unwilling. To save her life.

[his face a flicker of sorrow. to offer condolences feels too cheap. yet he is still someone who feels compelled to use his words, and so tries to make the sincerity of them felt by giving him a gentle kiss to the forehead as well]

I'm sorry. Even if you were able to visit her, I can't imagine what it must have been like.

It was what it was.

[it was not as though he had not put together the story and its implications and how strongly they ran later, but as a little boy, it had been all the framework for family he knew. your father in one cottage; your mother in the other; yourself and your brother in the care of your uncle but for once a month. they saw father in painfully correct meetings no matter what, and he instructed them without trying to grow close to them. they saw mother when they were very good, and she was happy when they were there.]

Would not have Gusu be your prison.

[stiffens with slow-dawning horror as the full meaning of those words becomes more and more apparent to him. it feels like context he was missing, information that was sorely needed when trying to understand him.

he doesn't make any move to pull away--if anything, when the distress starts to spill out onto his features he buries his face in Lan Wangji's chest]

I know that now.

Mm.

[doesn't say anything more pressuring than that, only strokes his fingers through his hair and soothingly over the back of his neck: shhh]

[relaxes again by inches, but keeps his head buried]

...The places I go are places I choose to go. I'm afraid you couldn't trap me if you tried. If I'm caught, it's only because I want to be. Don't mistake it for anything else.

[his heart skips a beat; his tiny acknowledging noise is very faint this time, like he can't get enough air.]

[peeks up at him; dares to brush a hand across his empty forehead, where his ribbon would normally be]

Were you worried? Coming and going doesn't mean I won't come back. I'll go wherever you go.

[leans so heavily into that it's almost like a cat headbutting his hand, demanding touch]

Only wish to be where you are.

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