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but the grown xiao xingchen seems nonetheless capable of bullying him into this and that, and so xingchen adds this to the list of such things right now. their correspondence mentioned braiding, so it shouldn't be terribly difficult to leave a bit loose on such an occasion and fondly shush any protest.
as for the present, he knows well enough what the hair's been tugged loose for but waits for proper permission regardless - permission and, of course, relinquishing his own hair into jiang wanyin's capable hands. warm hands, he's reminded as their fingers brush, and he finds himself foolishly lamenting the fact that those hands are no longer holding his. but - 'will this do?' ) It will, ( he confirms, claiming the silver knife now that his hands are free to do so, though it's only to scoot the blade a bit closer beside him - taking stock of what he'll need.
then his eyes turn once again on his companion, landing briefly on jiang wanyin's own gaze before shifting to the bit of offered hair as he drifts a step closer so as to more easily reach. and reach he does, hands lifting (one brushes fingertips against wanyin's shoulder, a wordless 'i'm beginning to braid now' in light him closing his eyes) to take feather-light hold of the thin lock of hair.
the first few seconds, however, are distinctly lacking in any sort of actual braiding. instead, light fingers are smoothing the hair, settling any almost-tangles which linger from being tugged free as it was. then the braiding does begin - smooth, deft little movements which weave it neatly to match xingchen's own.
about halfway down the braid, he pauses a moment to brush the pad of his thumb against a bit of wanyin's lower lip and murmurs, ) You'll bloody it, ( before returning to his work.
and then he's finished, assessing his work and deeming it satisfactory. one end of the braid is tucked firmly between his index and middle fingers, the other end seized now between his fingertip and thumb at a point about halfway down the length of the hair. more than enough to leave as some manner of bangs, but still more than enough braid to serve their purposes. then the knife is collected from the table and he cuts the half-braid free in one smooth motion. the hair which remains half-unbraids itself at once, but that's fine. it's free to do as it pleases now, as xingchen sets the knife aside and offers a, ) Finished, ( with a smile once again tugging at the corners of his lips. )
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He remains silent until his hair has been clipped - he is well aware of the short strand now falling into his eyes like the bangs he usually wears at this age, feeling strangely comforted by the return of the familiar brush of hair against his cheek. ]
Thank you [ he finally manages to get out, and oh, but he still sounds a little croaky from that lip touch. And that didn't even include a kiss. Or... or any of the other stuff married people do. Right. Right. Focus on the here and now. He takes the strand of hair from Xingchen and knots the two strands together, all nice and neat, before placing them in the little pouch. Which he holds tight in his hand, eyes again on Xingchen's, and then tucks into his robe, right against his heart. ]
Better! [ he declares solemnly with bright red cheeks, as if he hadn't just done something humiliatingly sappy. ]
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but it can't very well be undone, so all xingchen can do is keep such a thing in mind for the future while he observes the process of knotting the braids and filing them away in the pouch which his companion has chosen. then that pouch is tucked- oh. jiang wanyin has tucked it into his robe, right against the skin of his chest as if to prevent so much as a layer of fabric from lingering between them. perhaps xingchen is reading more into the gesture than his companion intended by it, but it nonetheless has his eyes lingering where the pouch now rests for a couple of moments more.
the gaze which lifts to wanyin's now holds something weighty and inscrutable buried beneath the expected shades of delight and affection. ) Better, ( he agrees, hushed and warm. a moment passes, then another. then, ) Do we put out the candles, or leave them to burn? ( he's not entirely sure the proper procedure for such things. he also hasn't yet broken eye contact, though he's he's halfway surprised at his ability to maintain it at all, what with the distinct unspoken implication of 'before we depart' and the acute awareness of where exactly they would be departing to. )
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They are just newly married. Nothing to panic about here. (Okay, yes, he is still flailing on the inside, but in theory he could be not flailing and that would be okay, too!) ]
We should put them out. A-Niang would fly all the way to Ryslig to whip me if I burned down Sword Hall!
[ Well, fine, so maybe as a freshly married man in his own right he shouldn't have admitted he is scared of his mother - but in his defense, she is the scariest person he knows. Far scarier than that Fog God lady, going on his admittedly limited knowledge. Either way, he starts moving around to douse the candles. ] We. Ah. Can go to my room together, since there isn't a party I need to attend. Our room? My room? [ Pensive nose scrunch. ] The room!
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but by now they're nearly done with the candles, and jiang wanyin has (in his own stumbling way) directed them back to the true topic at hand. to what occurs once they've put out the candles and tidied what needs tidied. ) It can be your room, if that's more comfortable for you. I do still have residence elsewhere. ( and in truth, the concept of 'our room' feels a bit like he's encroaching. like declaring it as such places pressure upon them to formalize it as such, and steals away any chance they currently have to take what follows at a pace which they're both comfortable with.
soon the last candle's put out, plunging the room into a darkness broken only by the moonlight glowing faintly through the translucent sections of the sword hall's door. it gives xingchen a moment's pause, just enough to allow his eyes to adjust - and then he closes the distance between them, stopping just near enough to reach out and slip his hand into jiang wanyin's. ) Shall we? ( hushed, as if loath to disrupt the newfound quiet of the hall. )
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Before he can work himself into a new round of flustered defensiveness, Xiao Xingchen switches the topic to the other, even more embarrassing one than his secret damsel in distress fantasies.
He looks at their hands, at their fingers that are once more interlaced. He likes it. He likes it a lot. He gives his new husband's hand a little squeeze, followed by a shy but giddy grin, and tugs him along. ] Come.
[ The scenery on the way is nice though it would be even nicer in summer, and he takes it in with pride. ] All of this here will be yours now, too. Or your older self's. [ But for now, he takes him to what is apparently Jiang Cheng's bedroom now. It's not a room he really recognizes himself in much, between this being his father's room in his time, and the old man robes and boring books, or the laptop thing. There are only a few things he knows for his own, a few familiar trinkets and favorite books.
His grip on his hand grows eve firmer as they approach the door. ]
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in the meantime, xingchen is of course going to come along when he's tugged, following jiang wanyin off out of the hall, though he quickly moves to keep pace with beside him once they're walking along the pier. and in truth, he hardly realizes that his companion does the same as he surveys the moonlit surface of the lotus ponds, the elegant lines of the piers and buildings which hover above the water. he has been here several times since their arrival (if one could call it that), but it's never any less pleasant to look at. 'all of this here will be yours now, too,' jiang wanyin says, a quiet pride clear in his tone - and is that what what he thinks is on xingchen's mind? as he admires this lotus pier, does wanyin think that he surveys that which he now lays some sort of claim to? this home of yunmeng jiang is lovely, exceptionally so, but that's all the more reason that xingchen doesn't want it. doesn't want dominion over it. he would be more than content to simply admire it, to protect it if such a need arises - and perhaps, with help from jiang wanyin, to arrive within it and feel at home.
hopefully his continued admiration of the sights and the similarly steady hand curled around wanyin's is answered enough.
but then the grip on xingchen's hand tightens, and the path before them has no further branches but that which leads to the set of doors before them. a familiar set of doors, if only passably, from the day they awoke at this age. jiang-zongzhu's quarters. xingchen hardly knew the man then, yet his uncertainty and discomfort at the rooms being his were palpable in the air. and so, before jiang wanyin has a chance to let them in, xingchen's free hand lifts to set fingertips where the doors meet - a wordless 'one moment', as he looks to his new husband now. )
I had just remembered-... ( no, that isn't the way to go about it - naming jiang wanyin's discomfort so openly. instead, the hand on the door lifts now to catch the fresh-cut bit of bangs in the curl of his fingers, smoothing it fondly. ) I only meant to ask if you wouldn't prefer we retreat to the quarters you're more accustomed to. ( it's not as if xingchen is one to be all that impressed by some manner of grandiose suite. if given the choice, he would prefer they go where wanyin feels most at home. )
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He relaxes the tiniest bit when Xingchen cuts himself off, clearly awkward himself, and another little bit when he reaches out to play with his bangs. It's so sweet and affectionate and so very... it just feels so intimate, so much like the casual, tender intimacy he had always hoped he would have with his spouse one day. His heart thuds a little faster for it.
His eyes flicker from Xingchen's face to the door and back again, and his front teeth dig into his bottom lip. No, he doesn't really want to have his wedding night (whatever this may or may not entail) in his father's room. It is weird both because to him his father isn't dead and also uncomfortable because he doesn't want to think about that having changed in the last 20 something years. ]
But... shouldn't we? It's appropriate. [ Yet even as he says it, he already knows that Xiao Xingchen won't care about such things, so he gives a little nod without even waiting for his protests to be brushed aside. He gives his hand another squeeze. ] My room... my old room, isn't far from here, and it's still nearly the same.
[ It really isn't far. It is the same room he used to share with Wei Wuxian as a child and now - in his memory, now - has for himself. It looks like it hadn't been changed much, only some things missing, a few of them now found in his other room, and some things new which he would acquire in years to come. But it's nice and familiar, and he feels far more confident in there, even if the air is stale.
He gives Xingchen another smile. ] Thank you.
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and sure enough, here comes a nod, a squeeze, and a shift in plans. and even if the room is only nearly the same, it's far more so than this one, and any stale air can be remedied with a bit of sunlight and crisp breeze. or... just the breeze, xingchen supposes, at this hour.
'thank you.' the smile is answered with one of xingchen's own, his own newfound tuft of bangs fluttering faintly as he shakes his head. ) No need. ( he considers advising that jiang wanyin raise his standards for gratitude some - thanking xingchen for each new bit of consideration will exhaust him quickly and thoroughly, what with how much he'll be receiving - but that strikes him as a lesson best learned firsthand. so instead, he gives the slightest tug to the hand in his, drawing back a step from the door before them. ) Shall you be leading us in the proper direction, or am I to guess? ( a bit of teasing, to lighten the moment some. )
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[ Said and done, he grabs Xingchen's hand and drags him along.
His old rooms are indeed not far from his new rooms, and he finally releases Xingchen's hand so he can open the doors widely with both hands, making a grand show of it though the room isn't anything special at all.
Tidy, if a little empty for many objects having been taken when Jiang Cheng moved, but it has obviously been taken good care of. Jiang Cheng had already dusted and made the bed the other day when he had been uncertain if he would be able or willing to sleep in his new room. ]
It's nothing special [ he demurs with a self-conscious shrug. ] It's just a room. [ Larger than the room of a child that isn't a great sect's heir, of course, but still. ] The view on one of the larger lotus ponds is nice, but it is too cold now to keep the window open.
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yes, this will be a perfectly lovely place to spend the evening.
though jiang wanyin comments on the view, xingchen makes no effort to see it for himself. in the morning, perhaps, when the daylight might allow him to see a bit more of it. for now, he shifts his brief survey of the room to something a bit more helpful, locating the nearest candle for a bit of light. soon he has it lit, and though it's still just one small flame flickering in the darkness of the room, it's still more than enough glow by which to turn eyes on jiang wanyin. his companion seems to have lost a bit of the daring their bows briefly lent him, falling instead to a sort of self-deprecation or doubt - and that simply won't do.
xingchen returns to him now, each step soft and unhurried, until he's close enough to reach out and reclaim the man's hands in each of his. one is lifted now so that xingchen brush a light kiss to the knuckles. it's a gesture he has seen more than once in his scattered trips to bavan, and one which stands to convey his sentiments far better in this moment than any of their own realm's traditions.
then he brings that hand to his cheek, setting it there as if jiang wanyin has done so of his own accord. he might have, perhaps, had xingchen given him the time - but xingchen isn't especially inclined to allow him to fret for however much longer that might take. )
Wanyin. ( a single hushed word, his gaze steady on jiang wanyin's even if his new husband opts not to return it. after a couple of moments, ) If it's... this evening, that you're worried about - I hope you know that we don't need to do anything you aren't comfortable with.
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Before he can start considering getting some red cloth to drape the room in, Xingchen is back at his side and...
Oh.
He feels himself blushing under his touch, even as he smiles. ] I know. [ He licks his lips and ducks his head a little, but slowly since he is careful not to dislodge his hand. ] I know you wouldn't push me into anything I don't want to do. You aren't like that. And I want to! [ Cue a moment of silent mourning for his dignity, which is right now being consumed in the flames of his mortification. ] Do... stuff. It's just weird, you know! We aren't allowed to and then suddenly we are supposed to. But it's probably not that weird for you. You wouldn't have worried about being proper. [ With girls, that is, he had been reprimanded about being proper with girls. But it probably counts for boys, too, "don't you dare bring any bastards home!" aside. ]
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quite fortunately, the topic isn't mentioned, so xingchen isn't given the opportunity to be briefly but thoroughly surprised (and, admittedly, a bit impressed) by the lewdness of that remark.
instead, wanyin assures him of his faith in xingchen's character, and more intriguingly, of his desire - a declaration which colors his poor husband's face an even more vivid shade of red than before. as as tempting as it might be on another occasion to take this opportunity for a bit of light teasing, here in the wake of their wedding bows he finds himself inexplicably inclined to rescue him. to protect him from his own overactive sense of mortification, as silly as that sounds. then comes, 'you wouldn't have worried about being proper,' and xingchen lets out a quiet laugh despite himself. )
Oh, certainly not. What need could a daozhang possibly have for propriety? ( all teasing, of course, his grin perhaps a bit too bright for the occasion - but it quiets once his words are through, his expression shifting to something more subtly considering. one hand still intertwines fingers with jiang wanyin's, and the other drops now to catch his free hand too as xingchen steps in closer, close enough now that their chests nearly brush. it places him perfectly in range to lean in and brush a kiss against wanyin's lips.
then he's drawing back just barely enough that when his eyes open again, they can seek out his companion's. he doesn't leave any time for wanyin to comment or fluster, hushed words following at once. ) I have a proposition, if you'll hear it.
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But there is something miraculous about Xingchen, which is probably the same thing that led to their older selves getting together: he is remarkably tolerant of Jiang Cheng's many flaws. Including the foot-in-mouth flaw, apparently, for he looks only amused and not offended.
Jiang Cheng even earns a kiss for his rudeness. Somehow. He basks in the feeling of soft, warm lips against his own, short as it is, and squeezes his hand tightly. His lips are still tingling from the kiss. ]
What kind of proposition? [ he asks back, for he is not completely devoid of his wits. Only halfway. The kissing did steal some of his wits. ] A proposition proposition? Because I think it's too late for that, amoral offers are made before marriage.[ He freezes. Winces. Cringes. Okay, maybe the kiss has stolen most of his wits. ]
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You put a great deal of effort into the ceremony. It was lovely - and with so little time to prepare, ( he explains at just above a whisper, fingers still resting over wanyin's lips, though his thumb brushes a light apology along the line of his jaw. ) And all that I've done is arrive here in red.
( the faint note of dry humor in that last bit disappears now, though the slightest smile lingers at the very corners of his lips. ) My proposition was simply that I could return the favor here. You weren't incorrect - it isn't weird for me, and I'm quite confident in my ability to ensure that it isn't weird for you, either.
( he is offering, in essence, to guide them through whatever it is that they'll be undertaking this evening. he has no more experience in such matters than his new husband, but he can certainly act as though he does for the sake of minimizing the pressure on jiang wanyin.
his fingers linger in place for a couple of seconds more - a couple of seconds of eye contact at this new proximity, and hopefully of wanyin cycling past whatever reflexive response may have bubbled forth and achieving some level of genuine thought on the matter. and then his hand does indeed fall away, landing lightly on jiang wanyin's shoulder instead. )
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But this offer, this offer is very kind, just like everything he has seen of Xingchen points towards. He can't even interpret any slight into it. ]
I would like that [ he decides after only a moment's deliberation. ] Even if neither of us knows much about these matters... [ Xingchen is less likely to embarrass himself. Or in things he can actually voice, ] I should trust in my husband to guide me well. This will be a good first way to prove my sincerity.
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a beat passes, and then xingchen's backing away a step, his hand falling away from wanyin's shoulder but the fingers of their other hands still intertwined (loosely, in case his companion should choose not to follow). ) Sit with me. ( and for once, such a thing isn't phrased as a question (though he should hope that it's known that jiang wanyin can still decline if he'd prefer). whether or not his husband follows along, xingchen moves over to the bed now and sinks down seated on the edge of it. that's all, for now - just sitting together, and haven't they done that quite a few times before? )
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So he follows and sits with him, and after a moment's thought he reaches out for Xingchen with the hand he isn't already holding on to. He trails his fingers through his hair, then down to his cheek. ] Are you going to kiss me again now? [ he asks, voice hopeful as if this is actually something he can't be certain of. ]
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(warming the space, perhaps, for jiang wanyin to do the same.)
that delight makes it all too easy for a smile to find his lips as fingers brush along his cheek, and perhaps that smile is even a bit wondering - but he doesn't allow them long to dwell on it. because he has been so sweetly asked if he's 'going to kiss me again now' and there seems but one reasonable answer to that. )
I am, ( xingchen affirms, as if warning aloud as such is even truly necessary when he's already shifting across what little space remained between them until they're just beside one another, the outside of his thigh resting against jiang wanyin's. his own free hand finds a bit of loose hair now too, but only to tuck it back behind his companion's ear before letting his palm rest properly on the side of wanyin's chin. ) And you'll tell me, of course, if I take things too quickly. ( one more not-a-question, though this one is much less negotiable (in fact, it's integral to his taking the lead, not that he sees the need to spell it out as such). and without another second wasted, xingchen does indeed dip in to press his lips to his husband's - press, not brush like before. a beat passes like this, then another, in a way which feels almost considering... but then comes the first exploratory movement of lips against jiang wanyin's. )
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He presses into the kiss and moves his own lips against his, another little noise escaping him at this. Kissing is so much. How is he ever going to take it for granted? Impossible, certainly, especially when he is so tightly wound up from anticipation of everything that might follow the kissing. His fingers clench and unclench around a fistful of his husband's wedding not-robes. He even parts his lips a little in giddy anticipation and lets his hand fall down to his hip - just wanting to touch, to hold on to him, still overwhelmed by the concept that he is perfectly allowed to do so now. ]
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meanwhile, the parting of lips is nearly enough to distract from the hand now sliding down to xingchen's hip as xingchen allows his own lips to part with a breath like a quiet pleased sigh, the tip of his tongue brushing inquisitively at wanyin's bottom lip. but even still, he thinks to let his own free hand track his companion's arm down to where the hand rests at his hip, letting his hand rest on top of it for a moment in wordless affirmation that he is allowed to do so. in fact, it isn't just allowed, but welcomed - though it does draw his attention to their somewhat inconvenient positioning, and without so much as breaking the contact between their lips, xingchen loops his forearm under jiang wanyin's thighs (just above the bend of his knees) and draws his legs up over xingchen's own lap. it's not nearly so intimate as sitting on his lap, but it lends much better to kissing than sitting side-by-side as such. and though his hand then settles on the side of his husband's knee, it's more a thoughtless reassurance than any sort of proper grip. )
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Right now, though, pride is the last thing on his mind. He gives him a wide-eyed look out of startled eyes, his mouth opened into a surprised oh. ]
This is better for kissing [ he observes, and belatedly realizes this is probably why he was positioned so. With his arms now around Xingchen's neck, he has brought himself even closer, too, bringing them as close to chest to chest as they can get in this position. And maybe, he thinks, he wouldn't mind fully sitting in his lap. He presses his lips together for a moment, giddy and nervous as he gathers his courage, then tilts his head back in challenge. ] And what will you do with me now that you have me here, daozhang?
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and perhaps also a bit lower, that wanyin trusts him so very much as to reach for him by instinct. to offer up that vulnerability, even just for a moment, sparks in xingchen the formless urge to protect him, however little there is to protect him from right in this moment - and to take care of him. he hadn't really had a proper conception of what he hoped for tonight to be, but one is beginning to come together now, and it has very little to do with his own personal pleasure.'this is better for kissing.' the observation earns a warm hummed 'mhm' and a little nod, because that was indeed the point of the maneuver. meanwhile, somewhere along the line, the hand which formerly guided the kiss has fallen away, and it and the other settle quite naturally now in the curve above each of wanyin's hips - not low enough to be properly lewd, he doesn't plan to alarm his poor companion as such just yet. oh, but then jiang wanyin seems to bolster himself just enough to offer a challenge. a proper one, with the tone and the tilt of his head, as though challenging him to spar, all capped off with a pointed 'daozhang'.
by now, jiang wanyin has surely come to recognize within xiao xingchen's eyes the precise flicker of sharp and ominous delight which means that wanyin has somehow just sealed his own fate. it comes again now, though the rest of his expression remains unchanged, the smile lingering on his lips as he muses, ) Daozhang now, hmm - just a minute ago I was simply 'husband'. ( his tone is laced with benign teasing - far too benign, after so ominous a look. and sure enough: ) But if you'd like me to be 'daozhang' as well...
( the hands release jiang wanyin's waist now, one arm curling firmly around the small of his back while the other hand slides up the centerline of his ribs and chest until it settles near the top of his sternum - and it takes little more than a moment's press of that hand to straighten wanyin's back a bit. and without breaking eye contact, he tilts his head just slightly. ) Now that we've fixed your posture, ( he says - a low murmur in the quiet, and each word of the rest comes just a little more slowly: ) Shall we test your discipline?
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And of course, there it comes, for he has issued a challenge and Xingchen wouldn't be Xingchen if he didn't accept it and return it twicefold.
He sucks in a sharp breath at his teasing, his eyes narrowing as if he is only daring him to act on his words. And of course he does that, too. The hand on his back, soft and gentle and oh so commanding that heat pools sharp and scorching low in his belly, and between his legs, and a soft needy whimper escapes his parted lips. His body follows, posture straightening under his command, and the lingering hand burns into his back like his gaze burns into his eyes, it burns.
But... but, there is more still, and that first whimper is followed by a strangled, half-choked noise. ] Discipline? [ he squeaks out, his eyes so incredibly wide and his arms tightening desperately around Xingchen's neck as he simply needs to hold on so he won't be swept away in the storm of... of whatever this is, or whatever it is awakening in him. ]
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it was a bold move, for certain. xingchen had truthfully thought it more likely (for what precious little he thought at all) that wanyin do as he often does and push back the moment he feels he's been told what to do. in that way, it may have ended up a bit more like sparring, perhaps not combative but hardly short of it.
the whimper, however, xingchen hadn't expected. not for this. not so needy, as if merely the act of correcting his posture by hand was enough to- what? he's not quite sure yet. as assured as he may seem (and be, for the most part), this is no more familiar to him than to jiang wanyin, and he's learning every bit of it as they go along. what to do, how to do it. what his new husband enjoys. he knows that wanyin straightened with far less resistance than one might expect. he knows that a whimper like the one moments ago is a good thing, powerfully so if the hitch of hot tension below his stomach is anything by which to judge. he knows that he already wants to draw out another.
but back to the matter at hand, he has issued his question (his threat, his promise,) and now he receives his answer, however choked it may be. however tightly jiang wanyin may cling to him now. it's terribly unfair for him to continue to be endearing while xingchen is briefly too much the daozhang to give such a thing the deserved attention. )
Discipline, ( he confirms, and continues on in much the same low, deliberate not-quite-murmur as before. ) A sect heir is no doubt quite proficient in the art of meditation... Yet I find myself wondering how much so, exactly. ( it's now that wanyin may notice the hand on his chest sliding gradually lower, so very slowly that it's a wonder he notices at all. this isn't acknowledged aloud in any way, of course. ) A daozhang, for example, often achieves such mastery as to choose what they do or don't feel. The pain of an injury.... ( it's at this point that his hand slides deftly between the fold of wanyin's robes, fingers seeking and then dancing along the fantastically warm skin along his husband's ribs. ) Or anything else which might be felt.
( he leans in now, just a couple of inches but it's enough that their lips nearly brush as he murmurs, ) Can you steady your breathing?
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