The kiss is slow and unhurried, and more about the simplicity of feeling one another's presence after so long, rather than ardent desire, but no less passionate. Later, perhaps, once Wei Ying has rested and they both have eaten will Lan Zhan partake of more, but for now, it is more than enough to loosely wind his arms around Wei Ying's slim waist, and feel the contours of his body against his own. He kisses the corner of Wei Ying's lips and breathes in the scent of him, with its own unique notes mingling with the last vestiges of the evening's chill. Wei Ying's skin is warming where Lan Zhan's lips alight, traveling from the line of his jaw and down, brushing against the base of his neck. His pulse flutters beneath his skin, and Lan Zhan can sense the strong weave of life beneath. It is a simple comfort, to be so very aware of it.

After a time, he steps away, and with a gentle hand on the small of Wei Ying's back, he leads them over to the plush sofa, a modern and somewhat anachronistic piece in their living space, but there is a natural harmony to it - Lan Zhan's antique books, Wei Ying's collections from his travels, touches of both old and new. The couch is among Lan Zhan's more modern indulgences, a buttery soft leather, the kind one sinks into. When he sits, he leans back into the upholstery and coaxes Wei Ying down into his lap. For now, he simply wants to hold him, to have all that he is within the circle of his arms.