[[忘羡 | WangXian 3]] : Our Flesh And Bones

Double Down./Double Time. [TW]

//\\

Wei Wuxian was sitting in the bath; the water had grown too cold, but he never noticed.
He was biting his lips viciously, and his mind was reeling. Did he go too far? Hanguang-Jun was so serious at dinner, watching his every move so carefully. Was he just worried for him? Jealous? Or maybe just tired? Hurting? Had he hurt him today? He was going through the day, filled with so much pleasure, but could not see a real reason for any of this.

He felt lonely. It was silly, of course. He was trying to convince himself that he can survive one night without his husband. It was going to be just one night, right? He tasted blood distractedly - Wei Ying would always forget whenever his lips were love-bitten. Sometimes he wondered how Lan Zhan would still kiss him - after some extreme nights, his mouth would be in a pitiful condition. He smiled faintly at the memories.

At least Miao Lu looked a bit better, calmer. One thing less to worry about.

Did he want him still... Did he really love him still... He sighed and went to sleep in a bed that was too big and too cold.


//\\

Lan Wangji was sitting in the bath; the water had grown too cold, but he never noticed.
For some perverse reason his mind was constantly going back to the scenes of the battle at Nightless City. He felt sick; this was one of the worst days in his whole life. It was there and then that he was - for the first time - truly terrified of the might Wei Wuxian was wielding. The practice of the Dark Arts terrified him to this day, and he thanked all Gods for every day that was peaceful, and without problems. When one got to be his age, one had to be thankful for the boring times.

That night of savage pleasure... Was it a week ago? He tried to remember - was it something he said or did that triggered Wei Ying's use of resentful energy? He remembered that the sex was hot and rough, but that was not new, so what had been different that night? The answer eluded him constantly.

He frowned and got out of the water, got into comfortable clothes and sat down to meditate. It was hard, his mind was full of questions. It now was going back on scenes from the last few days...the birthday, Jiang Cheng's words, the presents... his husband's pleas, whispered in the dark, begging to be loved, his needy touching, provoking him, teasing him... his weakness, followed almost immediately by frantic, wild energy, thirst, greed for love... Gods, he missed him...

Failing meditation, and suffering from a splitting headache, he finally went to bed, not bothering to undress. It had been a really long time since he had slept alone.


//\\


Wei Wuxian was dreaming Nightless City.
Death was reaching out for him, and the voices were all around him. The memory of pain returned - that arrow that tore his flesh, the poisonous words that tore at his soul. At that time he truly believed he had no soul left to be hurting any more. He was dreaming of pain, he was dying again and again.

"Let me go, Lan Zhan... Let go of me... Let me die..."

As long as Hanguang-Jun was holding his hand, it was an anchor to this world, and Wei Wuxian would die and come back, and die and come back, and on and on, and it was the worst torture imaginable.

He was crying in his sleep, crying for help, tossing and turning, unable to wake up, trapped in the nightmare. Anchored, doomed for resurrection.

//\\

Lan Wangji's nightmare was too vivid, Nightless City was burning.
Arrows and swords were piercing through his body, but he would not fight. He was walking on, towards the cliff, feeling every single blow, every single pain. His clothes were so soaked in blood that he felt them heavy, weighing him down. His mind vaguely wondered how, by now, he still had not bled to death.

He would reach the edge and there was Wei Wuxian, looking down longingly, as if attracted by the abyss. He was trying to hurry towards him, but his bloody robes were making it so hard to walk; it felt like he was wading in a sea of mud, or rather a sea of blood that was thick and sticky. He would use all his strength to reach Wei Ying in time, but inevitably - too late. Shocked, he would listen to some last words he was saying to him, but at that precise moment the skies would roar with thunder, and the words would be lost forever. And then, terrified, he would find himself surrounded by blood and fire anew, collecting arrows and blades in his body, starting from the start again. Hope was the true torture - the hope that this time he would reach him in time, just in time to save him.

He yearned to wake up, but he couldn't. Wei Ying would die in front of his eyes, and again and again, and he would cry and his heart would bleed again and again. He was trying to catch those words - even in the dream, something was telling him that those words were important.

He tried to read the lips, not listen in.

"Ravish me. Destroy me. Fuck me to death. Punish me. Punish me tonight, Hanguang-Jun."