Only for you

[longredribbon]

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.

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[qinzhen]

Lan Zhan, for his part, can remember life before Wei Ying, but as time stretches out before them, these memories have begun to lose their color, gradually becoming a wash of grey on an otherwise unremarkable portrait. Their meeting brought color to his days, and despite the fact that their initial acquaintance may have been considered fractious as best, some part of him had been fascinated. And later, enamored. What he doesn't remember is exactly when he realized Wei Ying had begun to feel similarly - the evolution of their relationship had been so gradual, the ways in which their lives had interwoven had felt as natural as breathing.

Now, his breaths come in shallow pants, rasping with the edge of a moan and all but drowned out by Wei Ying's cries of his name. The new angle allows him to lean in, to sink further into Wei Ying and it feels so impossibly deep, scorching and tight where his husband clenches around him. Lan Zhan releases Wei Ying's ruined hair to cover his hands with his own, and even though there's a quiet intimacy in how Lan Zhan entwines their fingers, his teeth are sharp where they graze the soft underside of Wei Ying's clavicle. Lan Zhan loves to mark him, with bites or toys or even the strength of his grip alone. He enjoys, perhaps more than he should, the identical sets of fingerprints he leaves along the insides of Wei Ying's pale thighs, the bloom of bruises along his neck that only a high collar can hide.

When he briefly slows their pace, it's only to reach between their bodies to roll the ring off Wei Ying's cock and toss it away. He dimly registers the sound of it hitting the floor, but his concentration is entirely on stroking Wei Ying in time to his thrusts, the slickness easing the quick slide of his callused fingers. With his other hand, he takes hold of both of Wei Ying's slim wrists, further pinning him to the bed in the way they both like.