Ah, his beautiful, witty, charming, skilled husband is — ...balking at the heft and impunity of their callous visitors, one of whom has taken to approaching close enough to whisper of its intended dalliance. He hears what he is yet to see, both appreciative and apprehensive, turning to coil a hand around Wei Ying and summarily...
...stuff him down his collar, between layers, in the most explicit exposure Wei Ying has ever suffered with the mountains, valleys and bridge-spreads of his skin. The feeling of this slippery seduction is easily the most gut-twisting, clammy and disgusting sensation Lan Wangji wishes to experience, in this life or the cursed next. The things one does for love.
"Wei Ying." Soft, gentle, like powdered and settled snow, like silver dust, to keep the chorus of his spectators from stirring, startled. "Do not duel toads."
He plays, and his spectators join in, some having seemingly discovered latent talents as flower girls and wishing no more and no better than to sing along. Delightful.
As a... matter of courtesy, one of principle, one of cultivation mercy, and, dare he say so, one of strategic convenience. Perhaps do not battle and slaughter the creatures they are intended to entrap.
"Do any... call to you?"
...to Wei Ying's lips, in particular. Blindly, now that he has been sunken in the whirlpool of Lan Wangji's robes. A trifling challenge and disturbance.
no subject
Ah, his beautiful, witty, charming, skilled husband is — ...balking at the heft and impunity of their callous visitors, one of whom has taken to approaching close enough to whisper of its intended dalliance. He hears what he is yet to see, both appreciative and apprehensive, turning to coil a hand around Wei Ying and summarily...
...stuff him down his collar, between layers, in the most explicit exposure Wei Ying has ever suffered with the mountains, valleys and bridge-spreads of his skin. The feeling of this slippery seduction is easily the most gut-twisting, clammy and disgusting sensation Lan Wangji wishes to experience, in this life or the cursed next. The things one does for love.
"Wei Ying." Soft, gentle, like powdered and settled snow, like silver dust, to keep the chorus of his spectators from stirring, startled. "Do not duel toads."
He plays, and his spectators join in, some having seemingly discovered latent talents as flower girls and wishing no more and no better than to sing along. Delightful.
As a... matter of courtesy, one of principle, one of cultivation mercy, and, dare he say so, one of strategic convenience. Perhaps do not battle and slaughter the creatures they are intended to entrap.
"Do any... call to you?"
...to Wei Ying's lips, in particular. Blindly, now that he has been sunken in the whirlpool of Lan Wangji's robes. A trifling challenge and disturbance.
"Heed your heart."