lazingroyalty | (no subject)

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It could have been worse.

The statement, despite being true, doesn't fill Guangyao with any sense of relief. If anything, it's annoying. Of cours eh didn't want to die, but to have even that taken away from him at the end, stripped of rank, title, any distinguishing mark of who he once was? He might as well have been dead.

No cinnabar mark dotted his brow. No scholar's hat on his head. No robes of gold and cream.

Instead it was replaced with...plainness, though one would struggle to describe Guangyao's face as plain even now. White robes, an unadorned home. The area was breathtakingly beautiful, of course, as the land of the Gusu Lan Sect usually are.

But there is nothing.

Oh there's birds and animals that wander by. There are servants who come to tidy the place, but none dare to speak to him. They're smart to refrain from doing so, Guangyao will reluctantly admit, but it's annoying all the same. He finds himself more and more looking anxiously and eagerly for Xichen's visits, needing something to break up the monotony.

So he paces, hands clasped behind his back, making sure his steps are measured and slow so as not to be mistaken for the agitation and impatience that it was. Her shoulder still ached from the scarred wound from Wangji's blade very nearly cleaving it from him; it had been close, sure, but Gusu's healers were famed for a reason. Just another tally on the list of things he owes Xichen for saving him from.

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He considers for a long moment, walking around the home and looking through the windows as he considers.

"I know you only visit every so often. But could I trouble you to come again tomorrow? Early in the morning, before the sun rises. That's when I'd want to paint you, with the sun rising behind you."

He consider sit for a moment longer and then nods as if making up his mind. He then looks to Xichen, hesitating a moment. "Is that... acceptable?"

That's awfully adventurous for a novice painting, but ...

"Yes. You ought to make a preliminary sketch tonight though, or you will be spending most of the morning wasting the sunrise to get your lines right."

"Yes," he agrees, looking a bit embarrassed. "Forgive me, I got away from myself."

He fusses around, the space already clean but surely he can somehow make it cleaner, right? And then he gestures for Xichen to come to the side of the room he dedicates to his drawing, the lighting better there.

"Here, come sit. I can start here. Forgive me, it's a bit cluttered..."

There's a couple sketches in a pile on the low desk. Such a mess, such clutter!

"Eagerness needs no apology."

Oh, this is interesting. He finishes his tea and follows, glancing with curiosity over the abandoned drawings as he sinks to his knees where he is bidden, adjusting his robes to be a picture of propriety.

"Are you sure you want to draw me? You have other pictures started ..."

It's such a Xichen response that Guangyao almost laughs, huffing out a breath of amusement. It's-- normal. Deceptively so. But he's too relieved to think that maybe it shouldn't be normal, because any minute more he can get of someone--Of Xichen's--time is worth it.

He gathers some of the papers and something to draw the lines, sitting opposite Xichen. "Hm?" Guangyao glances up and then at the papers, reaching for them and sort of. Tucking them away, his cheeks pink, she clears his throat. "No. No, it's alright. These are some of my earliest attempts. They're... Not fit to see."

He doesn't like his imperfections to show, not even now, clinging to any perceived perfection he can still. "I would rather spend the time like this."

"I understand, I won't peek. I'm the same way when I draw."

Secretive, shy. He doesn't push it, instead watching as Jin Guangyao gets himself in order.

"How shall I pose?"

He tries to imagine Xichen being outright shy and it makes him smile.

"Ah." He considers, then stands and walks over, hesitating briefly. "May I?" He asks, before gently tilting Xichen's chin, turning his head to look up and to the side. His fingers slid against Xichen's jaw as Guangyao takes a step back, brow furrowed in a serious, critical look before he nods and moves back to his papers, a shiver going down his spine.

When was the last time he'd touched someone?

He shakes the thought away to concentrate on the important thing of drawing Xichen. He laments his skills here, truthfully, not sure he can really put the practice into something valuable.

For some reason he never expected to be touched and automatically moves as guided, too surprised to protest (if he even would, he's not sure). Sitting in place at the preferred angle Jin Guangyao wants, Xichen feels a little too warm all over and doesn't look forward to managing his own temperature while under scrutiny; a sweaty model wouldn't be pleasant!

So, he shrugs off the shoulders of his outer-robe, letting it ripple around his elbows. Not so proper.

"This will prove better practice than straight lines everywhere."

It's not even a lie.

The whisper of silks makes Guangyao tense in surprise and he stares at Xichen for a beat longer than could be proper.

"Yes, of course." He's not wrong, but Guangyao can't help but wonder how much of this is purposeful for entirely different reasons. He's feeling warm himself suddenly, which in Gusu in general seems odd. He hasn't been uncomfortable so far, but there's always a chill in the air when the sun first starts rising and after it's set. But right now he feels like he could do with a fan.

He forces himself to concentrate, to focus on the lines as he can do them on paper, as opposed to the lines on Xichen's body. And for a time it works! Guangyao, driven to perfection in all he does, can't allow his attention to sway and mess this up. He can't dream of not doing Xichen justice on the paper.

He doesn't evne know how much time passes and he almost feverishly works, except--

Except.

He drops the sketching tool to his side and heaves a Much Put Upon Sigh, looking at Xichen through his lashes, the hint of a pout on his lips. "...Zewu-jun. You might need to hide your hands."

The bane of artists everywhere: hands.

Halfway to relaxing and zoning out by the time there's significantly different movement from a pouty, huffy Jin Guangyao, his eyes widen and he looks down at his hands. Understanding comes a moment later with a small, indulgent smile.

"Alright." Drawing a person is already hard enough. But, "Where should I put them?"

He could just tug his sleeves down and not give Jin Guangyao too much power, and yet. When he glances over, his lashes are lowered from relaxing in the same posture for so long and his smile is serene, close to trusting without losing any awareness of what he's doing.

"You choose."

Guangyao stares for a moment, his mind split between two ideas, two responses. Where, indeed, should he put his hands? His eyelashes flutter as he looks down at Xichen's hands, eyeing the a lost slender length of them that belies the strength he wields. He lets out a shuddery little breath and then clears his throat to cover it.

What the hell was wrong with him? A few weeks alone and he was ready to crawl into Xichen's lap and beg for a pet like he was Jin Ling's puppy? He curls his fingers tightly into themselves before he reaches for his charcoal.

"Just..."

He trails off and goes quiet, mind a whirl before he puts the paper down. He reaches for a new paper instead, standing and walking over. He takes a seat directly in front of Xichen, expression determined.

"I think, actually...It'd be better for me to get some practice on it." He reaches out to take Xichen's hand, resting it on Guangyao's leg--just so he can see it better, of course!--and picks up the charcoal again. "I should make a few sketches." But his body is tense, not looking up, too concerned about what he might see there or if Xichen would rather toss him away for daring to be this close now.

He didn't think Xichen actually would, but truthfully he felt like he didn't quite know what to expect anymore from him.

He always did like how Jin Guangyao surprised him.

A little taken aback, he lets his hand be moved as if it could be any time and absently runs his thumb over the soft fabric it finds there, trying to supress the instinct not to touch a dangerous animal. Noticing the demure way the other man won't meet his gaze, he had to wonder if it's for some kind of effect or to make Xichen curious ... although it's working, if so. How annoying not to know for sure. It is the most contact they have had in so long that he can't remember, exactly.

He has to actively stop his thumb moving again, endeared despite himself. Still watching.

"A-Yao will be accomplished in no time."

The softest, most mild wry hint lives in his compliment, because he knows the other man's search for perfection in all forms is not exactly praise-worthy to say the least.

His ears are burning red. It's mortifying that he can't actively stop it from happening, and he shifts in his seat, moving some of his hair out of his face.

"Zewu-jun flatters me. I simply like to work toward something." Regardless of what it is. If he can't climb to the top of the world anymore, he can at least climb to the top of whatever hobby he takes up. If he didn't have a goal to work on, he'd completely languish, he knows.

He works on sketching Xichen's hands instead, trying to get it correct and looking frustrated when he messes up. He doesn't think he can get perfect in a single sitting, which is honestly annoying. He picks up Xichen's hand, using his other to trace the outline of it, running his fingertips over Xichen's fingers, over his palm.

"Zewu-jun-- Xichen..." he trails off, his voice catching in his throat. "I confess there is something I very much long to do, and yet... I fear there could be misunderstanding." He's trying oh-so-hard to take the high-road here and being this close to Xichen is making it even harder.

Edited 2023-07-13 21:59 (UTC)

The only way he can cope with the constant touch is to partially meditate, mentally running through a calming breathing exercise. His fingers twitch then still, his expression placid as Jin Guangyao holds his hand under what feels like a pretence.

"If you tell the truth, there will be no misunderstanding."

Keeping his breathing steady, Xichen looks at him intently and waits to see if he will find a face lifted to him or not when asked this mysterious question.

"If you tell the truth, there will be no misunderstanding." Guangyao purses his lips, not entirely convinced. It feels too similar to when mothers tell their children 'if you tell the truth, I won't be mad.'

He curls his fingers around Xichen's hand, clinging for a moment before he lets Xichen go and returns his hand to Xichen's own lap. "My thoughts for you are not... wholly pure. I want to touch you more. I want to be touched. You are kinder to me than I deserve," and crueler than Xichen might think he is, at least to Guangyao, "and I can't demand such a thing from you. But being this close, I..."

He looks up then, his expression openly ashamed and uncertain, waiting for the rejection. "Perhaps you should go before I feel moved to beg."

His jaw sets, a muscle tightening in his neck as he listens. It's nothing he never imagined or wondered about, being more than half in love with Jin Guangyao by the time things fell apart, but it feels like such a confession carries ten times the inappropriate weight when spoken aloud. Xichen's hands ball up into fists on the knees of his robes, carrying all the tension he exhumes from the rest of his body to seem impassive.

When their eyes meet his lips part on words he immediately forgets (a reprimand or somesuch) because all he is doing is looking into his once-zhiji's eyes. Xichen is not full of rage on default, or wily, or cruel; in the moment, he wishes he was. After a pregnant pause, he reaches up with both hands. One steadies the front of his headband, the other unloops the tie behind his guan, and then the blue ribbon is sliding free to be carefully wound up and hidden in his sleeve for safe-keeping. Jin Guangyao will never have that part of him, not anymore. As for the rest ...

A dark gaze drops to his fist, blinking slowly with an answer of his own given in more than words. Waiting.

Guangyao waits, and waits. It's agony. If he's going to be rejected, he'd rather it be quick and swift so he can retreat to lick his wounds in peace. It's a big ask. It's more than he deserves, he knows, but Xichen told him to say it, didn't he? If Xichen has anyone to be upset with, it's himself for encouraging the confession-- And, Guangyao admits, himself for bringing it up in the first place.

He swallows hard and leans away as Xichen moves, wary, but there's no blow. There's no yelling or a shove away. He watches Xichen with wide-eyed awe, disbelieving that it's happening. Was this a dream? Was there something accidentally laced in the tea??

His throat feels dry as he rises to his knees, reaching for Xichen. The ribbon being placed out of his reach hurts. He gets it, but it stings and he loves Xichen with all his heart--for what little of it remains. Whatever that means anymore.

With a shaking hand he cups the side of Xichen's jaw, leaning in to brush his mouth to Xichen's. "Please," he begs all the same, a whisper against Xichen's mouth. "Please."

He has never been more statuesque in his life. People have commented on it, the Jades of Lan and their stoic beauty, their control, and there has been comfort to be found in distancing oneself from the masses. Up until he feels lips brush his own, he could pretend to himself that he wasn't going to move ... and even when he shies away for a moment, thinking of all the horrid deeds Jin Guangyao has done, when he looks back at those lips it is just his a-Yao before him (this is how he was manipulated before, he knows, with sweetness and beauty).

Deciding that with his headband removed all bets to play nice are off, Xichen abruptly turns his head back to Jin Guangyao and kisses him fiercely, dragging him in by the front of his robes to tip forward onto Xichen's lap. All the while Xichen's eyes are lowered but not closed, wary even in his hunger, but he wastes no time letting his emotions break free at last and bites at a lower lip before licking it better.

Edited 2023-07-13 22:54 (UTC)

"Ah--!"

Once again, Xichen manages to shock him, and Guangyao can't decide if he likes it or not. He loses his balance easily, not even needing the Lan strength to topple him forward. He struggles for a moment, tangled in his own sleeves before he grasps at Xichen's robes, pressing close.

Xichen might not close his eyes, but Guangyao does. He'll give himself over to this, to Xichen, only Xichen, because it doesn't feel wrong to do so. Xichen will not hurt him and even if Xichen doesn't trust him, Guangyao trusts Xichen.

He whimpers at the bite, but he sounds more hungry than actually pained. His eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes again, his breathing sounding too harsh to his ears. He opens his mouth to Xichen's tongue, leaning in again to seek another kiss. His hands paw at Xichen's robes, tugging and pulling; he has no strength to worry about ripping anything, but he's clumsy in his desperation to get to skin, not caring if something gets stretched.

The amount of times he wanted to kiss Jin Guangyao softly in a corner of a hallway, to wrap around him from behind and surprise him with sweet kisses on a neck ... they all pale before Xichen's simmering anger because that innocent, misunderstood man never existed. So he kisses him hard, yanks at a sash to loosen it, and gets his mouth on as much of him as possible once robes are peeled apart, licking a hot line down a throat to fasten a love-bite on a pale shoulder.

If he could force his sweet a-Yao back into reality, he isn't even sure he would. This is as close as he can get to that delusional, pure happiness he used to feel, and he will take it.

The finery of his sect leader robes part easily under insistent hands and he pays his own dishevelment no mind, too engrossed in tossing that sash aside and running his hands under the layers of Jin Guangyao's to map out his thighs, hips, and waist, kneading there to keep him planted firmly on his lap where his arousal is hardening under a sea of blue silks. He doesn't want to think of anyone else touching his a-Yao (whether his wife-sister was an innocent or not) because if he does he will be too disgusted to continue, so he focuses entirely on the present and the way his once-zhiji whimpers so prettily, pawing at him through a single remaining layer of cotton that hides little.

It feels more like a wild animal is upon him, rather than the Lan Xichen he's known before. He's heard of the way the Lans can be with their lovers, but he hadn't really expected...

Well. Did it matter now?

He hisses and gasps with surprise at the pull of his robes, squirming as he's exposed. "Wait--" he begins with a gasp that turns into a moan, his hips jerking forward to grind against Xichen's growing hardness with his own. Too much, too fast. His mind swims.

"I can't think," he manages out, gasping for air as he pulls at the remaining layer, eager to get his hands inside to press against hard flesh. Xichen has more strength in him than anyone could notice at a glance. He can feel it in the way Xichen's fingers press into his own skin, likely leaving bruises in their shape behind. And it's--Nice, in a way. No one would ever see them. He has no need to worry about something like that, so he can surrender himself to that and let Xichen mark him however he wishes. Let Xichen sate himself--his lust, his anger, whatever--any way he wants.

Pausing when he hears Wait, he can't stop the way he grinds up against the line of Jin Guangyao's growing erection a moment later and his head swims too. He guides him forward, a hand in the small of a back, and sifts a hand up through long hair to firmly, albeit not cruelly, seize a fistful to make Jin Guangyao look at him.

"Thinking too much gets you into trouble, a-Yao," he says softly, voice low and lips reddened from amorous kisses. "So don't."

Holding his gaze, Xichen slides the hand on a back lower and palms his way around to the front of an underrobe where he can feel the hardening heat of an erection under his long fingers, wrapping them around. Still, he isn't touching skin directly, not with that final layer of thin cloth in the way like a spider web, but he can tell every part of Jin Guangyao is pretty beneath the soft white folds.

"Didn't you want me to touch you?"

He can't look away even if he wants to, mouth slightly parted as he pants, eyes hazy. The tight hold on his hair makes him shiver--and it's not the revulsion he would've thought he'd have at being physically manipulated like this. Maybe because it's Xichen and Guangyao can't feel like he's being belittled or being made to play the whore just because of his parentage.

It's true that thinking gets him in trouble, but the control he feels slipping through his fingers makes him feel panicked. "I- I do!" He rocks his hips forward into Xichen's hand, his face burning red at the thought of just giving in to these base desires. But feeling the heat of Xichen's hand through the fabric isn't enough. "Please. I'm..."

He's scared, he realizes, and it's almost infuriating. He clings to Xichen's robes and shakes his head, trying to clear it. "If I don't get this, I'll absolutely die. I need you. But it's--A lot. My head is swimming." He doesn't feel articulate anymore, the words fumbling through his kiss-swollen lips even as he continues to rock into Xichen's hand.

He finds it hard to trust that Jin Guangyao is genuinely flustered even when everything in Xichen tells him it's true. He's certainly babbling a lot compared to the careful way he usually speaks, and he looks uncomfortable despite his body reacting ...

Taking control of the whole affair and yet remaining distant might not work, Xichen realises, because he can't indulge either of them when he senses discomfort in a partner. His hands slide to the safety of Jin Guangyao's waist where they pet a few times to reinforce the fact they're nowhere that makes it hard for him to think, and he glances between those soft, alluring lips and anxious eyes to try and get a read on him. There's definite lust there, just not an ability to control it ... and Jin Guangyao isn't a virgin, Xichen has reasoned. Or maybe he is when paired with a man; how would Xichen even know?

The strangest memory of being embraced by Nie Mingjue floats into the back of his mind unbidden, only a year after his ascension to sect leader. Da-ge had been so clear about his attraction and it had been a lively romance for many years whenever they got the chance to spend time together, the burning brand of a mouth roaming down Xichen's neck is still so clear that he shivers and tightens his grip on Jin Guangyao's waist. Da-ge had been so patient and kind ...

And yet, all those youthful trysts between sworn brothers had seemed like nothing compared to what Xichen had later felt for Jin Guangyao.

He leans in to rest his forehead in the curve of a neck, not wanting to think of anything but the present. A soft kiss meets a pulse as he eases the amorous rhythm to more of a slow-burn build, taking his time. Stupidly, perhaps, giving Jin Guangyao the time he needs to think.

"Breathe."

Guangyao had always been a pragmatic man. He’d skirted the edge of propriety to get where he could in his younger years, but avoided scandal wherever he could. Eyes always on a bigger prize, painfully aware of the accusations on peoples’ tongues that were just waiting for an excuse to start wagging.

His first and his only had been Qin Su. He hadn’t touched or been touched since that fateful day and it was overwhelming. It was embarrassing.

He shivers and takes a breath, exhaling slowly, the embarrassed shame welling up in his chest. “I… Thank you,” he whispers, clinging to Xichen and closing his eyes a moment. Breathe.

Things between them will never be as it once was, but the care he’s shown still makes his heart ache. There is still something there between them, shattered and fragile and painful as a bruise. It’s dizzying how much relief the idea brings him.

Guangyao reaches up, sliding his hands against Xichen’s body, taking a breath and shakily exhaling with a soft laugh. “I was overwhelmed. I didn’t—“ He hesitates, embarrassed again, but he’s— he’s trying. He’s trying to be more open and honest, for Xichen’s sake if nothing else. “I didn’t… dislike it. It was nice, to not be able to think, just overwhelming.”

He’s not sure who he’s trying to reassure at this point, talking through the processing of it out loud. “My minds never been empty and quiet before.” His hands wander, his hardness impatiently reminding him of what he was putting off as his hips twitch forward without hm even thinking about it, a soft groan coming from Guangyao’s throat.