Wei Wuxian (Wei Ying | Yiling Patriarch) (
longredribbon) wrote in
incenseburning2021-10-10 02:35 am
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Only for you
Continuation from here!
While there's no questioning the plain truth, Wei Ying could express his need and desire to belong to Lan Zhan in countless ways. Lan Zahn is his home, his heart, his everything. It may be a little comical that Wei Ying has a bit of a faulty memory, but there's no joke with the fact that he can't properly remember what his life was like before they crossed paths. What a whirlwind it's been.
Not that there's any room, nor the ability, for reminiscing right now.
Every initial action that Lan Zhan takes feels like one blur of a moment. The forceful and insistent ways how Lan Zhan is with his body is enough for Wei Ying's breath to both hitch within another, almost pained cry. The pleasure is almost too mind-numbing and overstimulating from the start.
—Just one of the ways how Wei Ying loves it.
It only continues with each thrust, with Lan Zhan going hard and deep. So many other ways of experimenting and indulging themselves with their hands, mouths and toys, do, of course, exist, and never fail to make a mess of Wei Ying. ...However, nothing can compare to Lan Zhan, himself.
". . .!!!" Any real words have escaped him, all except for trembling cries of Lan Zhan's name and pleas. His husband is so satisfyingly filling and deep reaching.
Wei Ying, however, is never one to simply lie around. With only a bit of effort he crosses his ankles behind Lan Zhan's neck, effectively pulling him even closer and folding himself in two. Both hands move up beside his his head to sharply dig into the bedding as he bucks his hips in turn. Now and again Wei Ying squeezes tightly around him, his head tossed back with a groan, briefly having met Lan Zhan's look with an equal one of his own.
While there's no questioning the plain truth, Wei Ying could express his need and desire to belong to Lan Zhan in countless ways. Lan Zahn is his home, his heart, his everything. It may be a little comical that Wei Ying has a bit of a faulty memory, but there's no joke with the fact that he can't properly remember what his life was like before they crossed paths. What a whirlwind it's been.
Not that there's any room, nor the ability, for reminiscing right now.
Every initial action that Lan Zhan takes feels like one blur of a moment. The forceful and insistent ways how Lan Zhan is with his body is enough for Wei Ying's breath to both hitch within another, almost pained cry. The pleasure is almost too mind-numbing and overstimulating from the start.
—Just one of the ways how Wei Ying loves it.
It only continues with each thrust, with Lan Zhan going hard and deep. So many other ways of experimenting and indulging themselves with their hands, mouths and toys, do, of course, exist, and never fail to make a mess of Wei Ying. ...However, nothing can compare to Lan Zhan, himself.
". . .!!!" Any real words have escaped him, all except for trembling cries of Lan Zhan's name and pleas. His husband is so satisfyingly filling and deep reaching.
Wei Ying, however, is never one to simply lie around. With only a bit of effort he crosses his ankles behind Lan Zhan's neck, effectively pulling him even closer and folding himself in two. Both hands move up beside his his head to sharply dig into the bedding as he bucks his hips in turn. Now and again Wei Ying squeezes tightly around him, his head tossed back with a groan, briefly having met Lan Zhan's look with an equal one of his own.
no subject
When Lan Zhan forces him down even further, he's hardly one to have any sort of desire to resist. Wei Ying only bends deeper. The calm, yet demanding tone that fills the other man's words has him grinning to himself, eager and willing and waiting. He bites down on his lower lip, that one hand still behind him, digging into his skin.
. . . If he would've had any idea at all that the toy would be put to a much more devastating use, Wei Ying might have taunted Lan Zhan about it.
Now his arm stretches out alongside the other. It's been a brief while since Wei Ying has taken in this much. He whines, keening as he feels Lan Zhan moving back into him, the backs of his thighs trembling, toes curling. Wei Ying is scarcely able to keep himself from doing otherwise, his cock still stiff and slick.
"L-Lan Zhan. . . Lan Zhan. . ." Wei Ying's voice pitches in a moan, already a breathless plea. He tries to slowly grind back upon Lan Zhan but recognizes that he isn't the entirely mobile. Instead, he adds to the intensity, squeezing tightly around his husband.
Just a bit further from them on the bed is the small remote for the plug and its multiple settings.
no subject
(It isn't as if pain would be unwelcome, necessarily - this he knows as well. But Lan Zhan is always cognizant of Wei Ying's limits, and when he wants to inflict pain, he is nothing but sure about it.)
The plug is a unfamiliar pressure along his dick as he bottoms out inside of Wei Ying. Strange, but by no means uncomfortable, and when Wei Ying tightens around him, it only adds to the feeling of being encased in his husband's scorching heat. The tips of his fingers dig into Wei Ying's hips when he attempts to move, tight enough to bruise and holding him firmly in place. He swallows at the sight of Wei Ying stretched so far open, at his breathless moans of Lan Zhan's name. His throat bobs and lets out a long, ragged breath. Wei Ying takes everything he gives him so well.
A quick glance and the remote is in sight, nearly hidden in the rumpled sheets. He barely has to stretch to reach it. He's so aroused he feels foggy with it, and it takes a moment for his mind to register the different settings, which buttons would produce which patterns. The middle setting nearly bends him over at the waist, his knees shaking as a punched-out moan tumbles from his lips. It's a heartbeat pattern that runs counterpoint to the pounding of his own heart and just a hair shy of overwhelming, threatening to undo him then and there.
"Wei Ying," he moans at the first experimental thrust, before gradually moving up to a steady pace. It's so incredibly slick and tight and he can feel the vibration down to his thighs, raising goosebumps all over his skin.
no subject
When he feels the way Lan Zhan's grip reaffirms its weighted hold, demanding he remain in place, Wei Ying only puts up more resistance, anyway. The way he counters by pressing back hard sets his head and forehead a little heavier and flush upon the bed. Rather than make the attempt to better use his arms or hands.
It's through heavy breaths and shaky moans when Wei Ying somehow finds half a mind and pockets of clarity to speak and even form words. Anything to dig even further under Lan Zhan's skin. Wei Ying tells him to fuck him even harder, deeper. Impossibly so. He spares no details, knowing full well and wickedly so how such filthy expressions affect Lan Zhan, and in turn, his actions. Wei Ying has to ask: Is this what Lan Zhan had in mind when he first laid eyes on Wei Ying when he arrived home and entered their room, seeing the way Wei Ying laid hands upon and pleasured himself? Lan Zhan should know just how wholly he was pretending that the sweet cherry popsicle was his cock, quickly growing impatient and dissatisfied as the dessert melted and lessened further and further in size. Nothing can at all compare, but it was arousing to imagine.
Nevertheless, given the way he's positioned, there still is only so much more that he can put into words. Any form of real coherency at all dissolves for good this time when the vibrations begin.
Wei Ying trembles with the sound and weight of Lan Zhan within and upon him. The grip he has against the sex and sweat-soaked bedding beneath them is white-knuckled, and while he aches to move a hand to his cock, wet and dripping with precum, refraining to do so only adds all the more to everything. He barely has even a breath to take.
no subject
Again, Wei Ying goads him, and Lan zhan can't help but give him everything he asks for and more. He aches with his desire, some deep part of him wanting to give the way a dam gives way to a flood, ardor and lust overflowing, bearing down on him in waves. Another time, perhaps, he'll experiment with the settings on the vibrator to see which patterns best suit them both, but the steady pressure of it against his dick and its consistent buzz are more than enough.
In response to Wei Ying's ramblings, all Lan Zhan can manage is a low groan of his name, a hot puff of air as his head drops forward. The filth that pours out of Wei Ying's mouth in these moments gets under his skin in the best way, drives him harder. He will never get enough of Wei Ying's voice, particularly when it's hoarse and wrecked with sex, with his desperate cries for Lan zhan to go faster, deeper. He's impossibly hard, shuddering with the force of his thrusts and panting for breath as his muscles burn. The slap of skin on skin is deafening as his awareness narrows, shrinks down to nothing more than raw sensation and awareness - the sweat beading under his shirt, the way Wei Ying fucks back onto him and the slap of his ass against Lan Zhan's pelvic bone and thighs, hard enough to sting, and the blooming redness on Wei Ying's skin with the force of it.
He's getting close - he can feel his core tighten with it, and with the way Wei Ying squeezes around him, Lan Zhan can tell he is, as well. His neglected cock hangs down between his legs, dark with arousal and dripping steadily into the sheets. Lan Zhan knows, intimately, that Wei Ying can come untouched; he has done so with Lan zhan buried deep inside him before, but also from something as simple as having Lan Zhan fuck his mouth. So he doesn't bother touching him there. Instead, he shifts his weight so he can bring Wei Ying up on his knees on the edge of the bed, Lan Zhan's arm holding him around his slim waist, back to front. There is less leverage for his thrusts but the angle is different, bringing him even deeper inside Wei Ying and allowing him to press and grind into that spot that will make him see stars. His other hand moves from Wei Ying's waist, skims over his stomach and hard nipples to wrap lightly around his throat, collaring him with Lan Zhan's long fingers.
He presses just so, hard enough that Wei Ying will have to gasp for breath, work for it, but not enough to completely cut off his air. Lan Zhan has to take a deep breath of his own before he can speak, and even then, his voice is ragged, deeper than his usual register, almost a growl.
"You will come like this," he grounds out, gritting his teeth against how the plug has shifted angle as well, and he thinks he can feel the vibration down to his bones now. "Like this," he says, leaning to speak directly into Wei Ying's ear, to harshly bite at the shell of it. "Or not at all."
It isn't an empty threat. But they play this game, sometimes, and he knows Wei Ying loves it.