"Come on," Wei Wuxian says, leaning over Jiang Cheng's shoulder. He tucks his chin there; it digs in, bony, but his cheek is warm against Jiang Cheng's ear. "We go to Huaisang's every Friday. What's the big deal?"

Jiang Cheng can't help but flush. He doesn't resist when Wei Wuxian wraps his arms around him, even though it's too good, too much of what he wants. Wei Wuxian's fingers pluck at the hem of Jiang Cheng's t-shirt, tugging it down until it lays evenly over his hips. This is the third t-shirt that Jiang Cheng has tried on; it has the logo for Gusu University on the pocket. "Why are you so tall?"

"Shoes."

"I don't like it," Jiang Cheng says stubbornly.

"Nah, you love it," Wei Wuxian says.

As usual, he is infuriatingly right. For a moment, Jiang Cheng wants to punch him, and then the desire abates with such intensity that he feels like he's the one who's been slugged in the gut. Wei Wuxian holds Jiang Cheng up, octopusing around him, tall and warm and teetering on—Jiang Cheng looks down—a pair of cheap lucite heels.

"Shoes," he says faintly.

"I'll wear them later while I blow you," Wei Wuxian says casually. Jiang Cheng stares at the peeptoe of Wei Wuxian's shoes, where his too-long toenails are on full display. "I bet you'll be into that."

Wei Wuxian has blown Jiang Cheng exactly once, two days ago, in the middle of what Jiang Cheng assumed was just another mandatory two hours of catching up on Wei Wuxian's favorite drama. Yet somehow they're just going from that to—this? To shoes?

"Whatever," Jiang Cheng says as he shrugs free of Wei Wuxian's hold. "I'm ready, fine, let's go to Huaisang's."

They haven't really talked about what's going on between them, except this morning while Jiang Cheng was eating breakfast and Wei Wuxian was lying on the sofa with his arm over his eyes, Wei Wuxian said, "Are you going to be weird about it if I hold your hand in front of our friends?"

Jiang Cheng chewed his youtiao.

"Just let me know," Wei Wuxian said. "It's chill."

Oh, Jiang Cheng knew very well that it was not chill. But he wasn't like Wei Wuxian; he couldn't just do things like that, like it was nothing. Wei Wuxian could name his sword—gleaming now on the rack above his head—Suibian, he could do whatever he wanted. He got all the curses and the blessings of being always inside and outside the Jiangs, and Jiang Cheng got everything else.

"You can hold my hand," Jiang Cheng said after he swallowed, feeling like he'd just walked over a bed of hot coals.

Wei Wuxian yawned and uncoiled, stretching his lanky frame until his feet dangled over the arm of the couch. Jiang Cheng could hear his mother in his head, scolding Wei Wuxian for abusing the furniture. "Okay, great."

What was supposed to come next? Jiang Cheng didn't know the rules for any of this, or maybe there were no rules—he had left the land of expectations, to do whatever this was. He wanted to kiss Wei Wuxian, whose red, mocking mouth was slack now, his eyes slipping shut to doze for a few last minutes before he really did have to get up for class. Jiang Cheng put down the last of his youtiao and wiped his hands on his pants, then strode over to the couch. "Wei Wuxian," he said, lacking any better way to call him, and bent down to kiss him. Their noses bumped together, clumsy, and then Wei Wuxian's arms came up to wrap around Jiang Cheng's neck and pull him down.

Nie Huaisang has an apartment to himself with three sofas and a haphazardly stocked bar, all of which are hand-me-downs from his brother. If Jiang Cheng gets there early enough, he can usually get a seat on one of the two that don't smell vaguely like cat piss. Despite Wei Wuxian's lucite heels, which he abandons by the door, the person who's arrived before them tonight is Wen Qing.

By tacit agreement, Jiang Cheng throws a coat over their seats while Wei Wuxian mixes their drinks, or pours them, anyway—beer for Jiang Cheng from the keg and fruit wine for himself. He sits sideways in Jiang Cheng's lap and hands Jiang Cheng his beer, cool as anything. Jiang Cheng can't meet anyone's eyes. They were all at the party Nie Huaisang threw last week, they saw what happened.

Nie Huaisang leans forward and sets his cup on the scarred coffee table. "Ooooh, do I sense some news?"

"Ah, Jiang Cheng," Wen Qing says, sounding disappointed. "You were my only straight friend!"

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. "Leave him alone." He kicks his bare feet, heels scuffing against Jiang Cheng's calf. "We all know the real gossip here is about Sangsang and Mo Xuanyu."

Wen Qing presses a hand to her chest. "No."

"Yes," Nie Huaisang says dreamily. "He's so hot. He loves sucking dick."

"I also love sucking dick," Wei Wuxian says, just commiserating, and also making Jiang Cheng's dick too interested for a gathering of all their friends. They all know, they must know, it's all over his face, how much he likes and wants it. Before Jiang Cheng can chug his beer about it, Wei Wuxian leans back against him. "Is he going to come tonight, though? Is he going to go out with us in Caiyi?"

Nie Huaisang's face drops. "Maybe. I don't know. Lanling Jin is paying his tuition."

Wen Qing winces.

Even Nie Huaisang's gatherings aren't private enough to shield someone from Lanling Jin's scrutiny. Jiang Cheng can't imagine anyone from Yunmeng Jiang bothering to look harder at his private life than his grades. The only metric his parents have ever used to judge him is in his lap, heavy and overfamiliar, crowding him into the sagging floral embrace of the sofa.

"You could bring Mo Xuanyu to the Aether Cultivation study group," Jiang Cheng says. "He's in the same lab section as me."

"Revision," Nie Huaisang says with horror.

Wen Qing's phone buzzes. "It's A-Ning," she says, getting up. "I'll let him in."

"Mmmm," Nie Huaisang says, following her. "Anybody want anything?"

Wei Wuxian throws back his wine and holds out his glass. "Another for me!"

Jiang Cheng is still holding his beer; he's barely taken a sip. Wei Wuxian takes the cup from him and replaces it with his own hand, a little sticky and warm. No one is watching.

The weather outside is warm enough that Wei Wuxian walks home barefoot, the shoes dangling from his fingers, swaying into Jiang Cheng. They're both a little drunk. "These heels are too high, Jiang Cheng," Wei Wuxian admits. "I'm not going to put them on again until I'm on the floor."

Jiang Cheng is taller now, by the virtue of retaining his sneakers. "On the floor?"

"Yeah, when I'm on my knees, you know, for—" Wei Wuxian smiles. "For when I blow you."

"Oh," Jiang Cheng says, very smoothly. "Yeah, right." It's very weird to think about sex as a thing he can plan, in addition to it being a thing that he has, a thing that he is having with Wei Wuxian.

Back at home, Jiang Cheng lets Wei Wuxian push him down on Wei Wuxian's bed, a mess of unfolded laundry that Wei Wuxian hasn't slept in for a few days. "Jiang Cheng." Wei Wuxian pushes Jiang Cheng's shirt up his belly. "Can I—"

"Stop asking," Jiang Cheng says. "Just do it, I told you that you can do it."

Wei Wuxian leans back, but it's just to slip his shoes back on. He doesn't bother to fasten the ankle straps. The lucite and cheap vinyl upper shines in the light from Wei Wuxian's desk lamp. "You can pull my hair, I like it."

"I don't know what I like," Jiang Cheng admits, too honestly.

"We can find out," Wei Wuxian says as he unzips Jiang Cheng's shorts. He pulls them over Jiang Cheng's hips, followed by Jiang Cheng's boxers.

As soon as Jiang Cheng registers the coolness of the room, it's washed away by the heat of Wei Wuxian's breath on Jiang Cheng's dick. The sensation makes Jiang Cheng's skin prickle all over. He feels like he's going to die when Wei Wuxian nuzzles his thighs. Having the full force of Wei Wuxian's regard turned on him is dizzying even when Jiang Cheng is sober; now it bowls him over, knocking him back onto his elbows, so he has to crane his neck to watch Wei Wuxian's mouth seal over him. Knowing how it feels inside doesn't prepare Jiang Cheng for feeling it again, hot and wet, that clever tongue rippling against his dick.

Wei Wuxian lifts his head. "My hair?"

Jiang Cheng nods, shifting his weight so he can reach forward and weave a hand into the base of Wei Wuxian's ponytail. He can't say anything. If Wei Wuxian looked up, he'd see it all on Jiang Cheng's face, he'd see everything. Involuntarily, Jiang Cheng tugs Wei Wuxian's hair; Wei Wuxian moans around him. Jiang Cheng comes immediately.

He drifts for a minute, floating on pleasure and the soft nest of Wei Wuxian's clean socks. Wei Wuxian could do anything to him. Jiang Cheng cards his fingers through Wei Wuxian's hair while Wei Wuxian holds Jiang Cheng's sensitive dick safe in his mouth. "Get up," Jiang Cheng says eventually. "I want to—"

Wei Wuxian looks at him with starry eyes. "Jiang Cheng."

The way Wei Wuxian calls his name cleaves Jiang Cheng right through. He wants to say something back, he wants to open as easily to tenderness, but his throat goes tight and hot instead. Wordless, he drags Wei Wuxian forward by his hair, until Wei Wuxian is pinning him down, covering him. Rutting against Jiang Cheng until Wei Wuxian spills between them, come hot and hidden between their bodies.

In the morning, everything is kind of gross, and Jiang Cheng has a sore back from sleeping with a pair of jeans wedged under his hip. Wei Wuxian kisses him with his nasty, sleepy mouth and they jerk each other off lazily. "I think I'm hungover," Wei Wuxian mumbles into Jiang Cheng's neck afterward. "Are you hungover?"

Jiang Cheng wipes his sticky hand on one of Wei Wuxian's socks, because it's there. "I'm not sure." He tosses the sock towards the floor. It lands on Wei Wuxian's calf.

"Ugh, you're so gross," Wei Wuxian says, and reaches up to smear cooling jizz all over Jiang Cheng's face.

They wrestle until Jiang Cheng starts to get hard again. He reaches up to touch Wei Wuxian's cheek; Wei Wuxian smiles at him and says, "Want to jerk off on my face in the shower?"

So Jiang Cheng jerks off on Wei Wuxian's face in the shower.

It's too late to get congee from the canteen, which stops serving breakfast at the inhumane hour of 8:30AM. They're nearly out of toilet paper. Jiang Cheng says, "We're going to the good bakery if we have to go all the way down to the supermarket."

"We could go to Family Mart and pay 6 yuan for a pack again."

"No," Jiang Cheng says firmly.

Wei Wuxian groans, but he paws through the pile of junk on top of the table by the door until he finds his sunglasses.

They go to the supermarket together all the time so Wei Wuxian can buy disgusting amounts of junk food and Jiang Cheng can also buy disgusting amounts of junk food, plus instant noodles and frozen pork buns. He doesn't know why it feels different to go there together today—like he's got some secret license to enjoy their time together, instead of resisting that gravitational pull.

"I want a red bean bun." Wei Wuxian pulls his wet hair back with an elastic, not bothering to look in the mirror. "I'm so hungry. Oh my god. I want a strawberry roll. I want milk bread... I want... I want new nail polish."

Jiang Cheng glances at Wei Wuxian's hands, calloused from swordplay, the chipped edges of iridescent paint still clinging to half his nails. He thinks about how they looked wrapped around his dick.

The supermarket is packed, the lines so long it takes them ages to get through checkout even with just a 24-pack of toilet paper and an armful of Yan-Yan cups. "My arms are going to fall off, Jiang Cheng," Wei Wuxian says, holding the toilet paper tightly to his chest as they crowd against the far wall of the elevator. "I will shame the Jiang name. I will die here, my arms on the floor, still holding this toilet paper."

"Just shove it in your qiankun bag, what the fuck," Jiang Cheng hisses. A steel-haired auntie standing by the floor keypad glares at them.

They spill out into the fifth floor along with most of the elevator, splitting off from the pack to head to the bakery at the far end of the food court. Jiang Cheng wants a pineapple bun so much he can taste it. He is so intent on that bun that he notices nothing about his surroundings until Wei Wuxian stops so abruptly that Jiang Cheng barrels into him.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian says. "Wow. You're in a food court. Eating food? I have to process this."

"Nice to see you, too," Nie Huaisang says, rolling his eyes. He's sitting at a table covered in mall dim sum opposite Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu, who is wearing full theatrical makeup at 11am. Mo Xuanyu smiles shyly at Jiang Cheng and gives a little wave.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. "Is Lan Wangji your chaperone?"

Lan Wangji's placid face attempts and abandons an expression. "No," he says.

Through his sunglasses, Wei Wuxian makes meaningful, gay eye contact with Nie Huaisang that Jiang Cheng doesn't even try to interpret. "Buns," Jiang Cheng reminds him with a shove.

"Buns," Wei Wuxian says raptly. "I'll talk to you later!"

They finally combine their purchases and shove them into Jiang Cheng's qiankun backpack so they can order enough buns to last them at least through the weekend. Then they take their snacks and sit at one of the tables by the windows. Jiang Cheng's never sat there before; the sharp drop down makes him feel a little queasy in a way he never feels on a sword.

"This is so fancy," Wei Wuxian says. "Look, I even got a fork."

Jiang Cheng snorts. Is it fancy? Is it supposed to be fancy? What are you supposed to do after you come all over someone's face? Wei Wuxian takes a bite of strawberry roll and smears whipped cream all over his upper lip. He is not helping.

After a minute of cake rapture, Wei Wuxian lifts his head again. "You're so tense. The bun won't hurt you, I promise, Jiang Cheng. I'll protect you." Beneath the table, he hooks his foot around Jiang Cheng's ankle.

Jiang Cheng can feel the blood rush to his cheeks. He stares down at his untouched pineapple bun and wonders if he's just going to be tormented by Wei Wuxian for the rest of his life, which is also exactly what he wants. The pineapple bun has no counsel for him.

No sooner than Wei Wuxian has shoved 23 packs of toilet paper into the precious real estate atop the refrigerator, Jiang Cheng's phone buzzes with an insistent notification from WeChat. It's Saturday, fuck, it's time for their weekly call with—

Jiang Cheng swipes open the notification. "Hello, jiejie." He tries very hard to sound normal, not at all like a ghost wheezing its last words beneath the crushing portent of suppression.

"A-Cheng!" Jiang Yanli says with a warm smile. "Where's A-Xian? I don't see him."

Wei Wuxian drops something that lands with a metallic clang. Not the toilet paper, then. "I'm coming, shijie, I'm coming!" He hops over the side of the couch and falls over Jiang Cheng's lap with exaggerated clumsiness, one bony elbow driving into Jiang Cheng's thigh. His hair smells squeaky, like cheap shampoo. Jiang Cheng shoves him upright.

Jiang Yanli laughs. "I see you haven't killed each other yet."

"Worse," Wei Wuxian says. "We just went to the supermarket and the only Yan Yan flavors he got were vanilla and mango."

"Mango is good," Jiang Cheng says defensively. He leans forward to prop his phone up against a dirty cup on their coffee table.

Wei Wuxian fumbles in his hoodie pocket. "You're going to have to make it up to me. Help me paint my nails."

"Oh, what color, A-Xian?

As Jiang Cheng slowly immolates, Wei Wuxian holds up the bottle for Jiang Yanli to see. "Just black, but it glitters."

"Lovely!" Jiejie says, then drives a nail into Jiang Cheng's coffin. "I'm sure A-Cheng will do a great job."

Wei Wuxian gathers some papers at random off the coffee table—they look like some of his talisman designs, but that's not Jiang Cheng's problem—and shoves the bottle of nail polish into Jiang Cheng's hand. He looks up from under his lashes in a way that makes Jiang Cheng's qi roil in his spiritual veins. "I know he will."

Jiang Cheng has never painted Wei Wuxian's nails before. When Wei Wuxian paints them—which is rare, given how quickly he can destroy a coat of polish in the course of cultivation and just... being alive—he does them himself in front of the TV. This can't be any worse than calligraphy practice, except for the part where he is holding Wei Wuxian's hands in his, right in front of their jiejie.

"It's not too hard," Jiang Yanli says as she wedges her phone into the drying rack over the sink. "Don't put too much paint on the brush at once, go from bottom to top."

The nail polish does sparkle as Jiang Cheng brushes it over Wei Wuxian's thumbnail, spreading slickly behind the flat fan of the bristles. If he focuses hard enough on what he's doing, Jiang Cheng won't think about how trustingly Wei Wuxian put his hand into Jiang Cheng's, the way his sword-calloused fingers rest on Jiang Cheng's palm.

"What are you cooking?" Wei Wuxian asks, leaning closer to Jiang Cheng's phone. "Is it my favorite soup?"

The familiar sound of rice being poured directly into the metal cooker without being measured greets Jiang Cheng's ears. Their jiejie is a master of adding exactly enough water to make sure it burns. Jiang Cheng winces.

"I can't make that every day," Jiang Yanli scolds as she rinses the rice. "When A-Xian comes home, I'll make some! Tonight I'm making steamed fish for Zixuan, you know he loves that."

The only good thing about Jiang Yanli's boyfriend is that he has tacitly colluded in the refusal of her friends and family to acknowledge that Jiang Yanli can only cook one thing: pork rib lotus soup. Take out the crucial ingredients? You'd better be conveniently planning to pick up takeout, it's no trouble, jiejie, we know you love eggplant!

Mentally, Jiang Cheng pours one out for Jin Zixuan and his limp, filmy-eyed beltfish.

"I can tell you're hiding something," Jiang Yangli says gently as she opens the fridge. "What's going on? Did one of you fail an exam?"

Jiang Cheng carefully does not look at Wei Wuxian. He doesn't have to—he can feel the sudden tension in every place they touch, hand-in-hand, knees pressed together. Wei Wuxian's fingers tighten on Jiang Cheng's, smudging the fresh polish on his pinky.

"No," Wei Wuxian says. His next words make the bottom drop out of Jiang Cheng's stomach. "I have something to tell you, but you can't tell Jin Zixuan. You have to promise me."

"Of course," Jiang Yanli says, turning toward them.

"I think Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji are in a throuple with Zixuan's brother."

Jiang Cheng has to pretend he knows this. He has to pretend that he is not, internally, screaming what the actual fuck. How does that work? Two dumb twinks and one human icicle? His brain could barely handle seeing them at the same table in the food court.

Jiang Yanli drops something onto the floor with a clatter. "With Jin Guangyao?"

"No, oh my god, no. Mo Xuanyu!"

Jiang Cheng says, "I think Jin Guangyao is already in a throuple with the other Lan brother."

Wei Wuxian makes a wheezing sound, then slides dramatically off the couch with a mournful groan, his hands raised in the air to prevent further damage to Jiang Cheng's hard work.

"A-Cheng," Jiang Yanli says through her laughter. "I think they're friends. People can be just friends!"

Wei Wuxian's hand curls carefully around Jiang Cheng's ankle. "I don't think they are," Jiang Cheng says, and lets himself be dragged to the floor, phone and all.

"You jerk off with lube?" Jiang Cheng says suspiciously when Wei Wuxian brings the bottle out of his room. He regrets his words as soon as they've left his mouth. Does he really want to know if Wei Wuxian has had other reasons, other partners? He can't help but think about the party last week, which gets him so hot-cheeked and jealous that he has to fight down the urge to retreat behind a locked door.

Wei Wuxian shoots Jiang Cheng a look that he can't read. "What are you using? Soy milk?"

"What the fuck," Jiang Cheng says.

"Are you going to put your dick in my ass or not?" Wei Wuxian says. "I can't do it, my nails are still wet. You're going to have to undress me."

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. "I am not undressing you," he says even as he reaches for the hem of Wei Wuxian's shirt. He doesn't know why he has to protest, to hide how much he likes it. When Jiang Cheng thinks about the way Wei Wuxian acts with Jiang Yanli, another wave of jealousy burns through him, fiercer and more shameful. Before he can think about it, he blurts out, "Is Xianxian only three?"

Improbably, Wei Wuxian blushes. "No, Xianxian is—an adult!"

"Xianxian is shameless," Jiang Cheng says, yanking Wei Wuxian's shirt over his head.

They look at each other for a long moment, which is terrible. Jiang Cheng hastily pulls Wei Wuxian's sweatpants and boxers over his hips and shoves them down; they pool around Wei Wuxian's knees until he wriggles his calves a little. Then Wei Wuxian is naked in the living room with his dick half-hard against his thigh. Jiang Cheng drops to his knees and takes it into his mouth to avoid further eye contact.

He hasn't done this before. He doesn't know how to make it feel good for Wei Wuxian. He hasn't done any of this before. Wei Wuxian puts his hand in Jiang Cheng's hair, cradling his skull. Jiang Cheng opens his throat a little and immediately chokes on Wei Wuxian's dick. He's drooling, his mouth is too wet, Wei Wuxian is making so much noise. "Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng—ah—" His fingers tangle in Jiang Cheng's hair and tug.

Jiang Cheng wants to rut up against Wei Wuxian's leg, but he's supposed to put his dick in Wei Wuxian's ass, he's supposed to do something, he's losing his train of thought. His mouth is getting sore, so he has to use his hand a little. Forgetting himself, Jiang Cheng looks up to see Wei Wuxian staring down at him, mouth red and open, cheeks flushed. He's so beautiful.

"Fuck, my nails," Wei Wuxian groans, pulling Jiang Cheng's hair harder, and spills salty and bitter into Jiang Cheng's waiting mouth.

Wei Wuxian's nails are fine. They glitter in the sunlight as he splays his hands over Jiang Cheng's bed, holding himself up on all fours. "I've put stuff in my ass before, but just like, fingers?" he says casually. "But I've watched gay porn. I know how it works. I washed my ass earlier."

Jiang Cheng's dick is so hard. He is still fully dressed. "What, you don't normally?" He fumbles at his zipper.

"I think I've taken more showers in the last week than I have in—" Wei Wuxian pauses thoughtfully. "A while."

Finally, Jiang Cheng gets his belt loose. He undresses quickly, pulling his shirt over his head so fast he almost gets stuck in it, sloughing his socks off at the end of the bed. The whole time, Wei Wuxian is watching him with this little coy smile that makes Jiang Cheng prickle all over. He's never seen Wei Wuxian give that smile to anyone before, and, greedily, he wants it to be his own.

Jiang Cheng looks away again. Okay, he looks at Wei Wuxian's ass. Then he touches Wei Wuxian's lower back, stroking his spine. "Don't be scared," Wei Wuxian says, and reaches back to spread his cheeks. "It's just my asshole."

"I'm not scared!" Jiang Cheng finds the lube on the bed. It's the kind that comes in a tube and comes out in a thick, cool blob that he has to warm with his fingers to spread. He's never touched himself this way. He's never watched gay porn—well, technically, he has, but that was years ago, when he watched a handful of videos and jerked off in the same room as Wei Wuxian with his eyes closed, listening to the noises on screen, the noises Wei Wuxian would make—afraid to look, to be seen looking.

Carefully, he rubs his fingers against Wei Wuxian's hole. Wei Wuxian shivers, then makes an encouraging noise. Jiang Cheng shoves a finger in up to the first knuckle and winces as Wei Wuxian tightens around the intrusion. He's doing this all wrong. He's hurting Wei Wuxian.

"Keep going!" Wei Wuxian says when Jiang Cheng hesitates.

He sounds fine—he sounds cheerful, but Wei Wuxian sounds fine most of the time. Jiang Cheng can't see his face. How would he know if Wei Wuxian didn't like it? His finger sinks in slowly; Wei Wuxian hisses. "Turn over," Jiang Cheng says, yanking his hand back. "Or—" He swallows. "I don't want to do this."

Wei Wuxian tenses. "Oh." He rolls onto his back; there's a little line between his brow. "I can— I can blow you, or—"

"You blow me all the time!" Jiang Cheng says.

"What, you're bored now that I've sucked your dick twice?"

Jiang Cheng stares at Wei Wuxian's ankle. "You should go on top."

"Oh," Wei Wuxian says in a different tone. He sits up, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Jiang Cheng likes the way Wei Wuxian's arms look as they bend, muscles taut, soft flesh meeting at the elbow. He likes Wei Wuxian's dark nails. Slowly, he drags his eyes up to Wei Wuxian's face, even though the idea of exposing himself like this makes his stomach curdle. "Do you like the other way better?" he says. "Because you like..."

Wei Wuxian's eyes are dark. "Because I like what?"

"Shoes?"

Somehow, that of all things makes Wei Wuxian's cheeks pink. He fidgets, fingers flexing, and bites his lip. "I just like to look pretty. I'm not—it doesn't have anything to do with that." He glances down. "Can't I look pretty for you?"

"Uh," Jiang Cheng says helplessly.

Then a familiar wickedness returns to Wei Wuxian's voice. "You like it."

Jiang Cheng glares at him. "So what if I do!"

"You want me to touch you with my pretty, pretty nails," Wei Wuxian says, pulling Jiang Cheng forward by the back of his neck until they're close enough to kiss. "You want me to put them inside you."

He does kiss Jiang Cheng, then, mercilessly slow and undemanding, until Jiang Cheng's dick is stiff against his belly. Jiang Cheng lets out a soft moan against his will. How is he supposed to resist Wei Wuxian's undivided attention? Having it and keeping it is all Jiang Cheng has ever wanted; the clumsy reality is even more heady than his fantasies.

Wei Wuxian pulls back to smile at him. "Get on your back, then."

Jiang Cheng gets on his back and lets Wei Wuxian shove a pillow under his hips. At least one of them remembered something from gay porn. Wei Wuxian sits between Jiang Cheng's knees, hands trailing idly up and down Jiang Cheng's thighs—feather light touches, then gently scraping nails.

"You're so pretty like this," Wei Wuxian says. "You look pretty for me, too."

"Wei Wuxian," Jiang Cheng says threateningly, except it doesn't come out threatening at all. His voice is quiet, breathy, unrecognizable. Wei Wuxian is warming lube between his hands, he's touching Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng's body doesn't know what to do about it.

"You're so tight."

Having Wei Wuxian inside him feels strange, invasive. Just the tip of Wei Wuxian's finger and Jiang Cheng feels split apart, throat tight, tense all over. "Stop talking."

"Are you okay?"

Jiang Cheng doesn't know. "Yes," he says, and Wei Wuxian meets his eyes as he presses his mouth, soft and wet press, against Jiang Cheng's thigh.

After another minute or two, Wei Wuxian gets his finger into Jiang Cheng, waiting patiently for Jiang Cheng's body to stop struggling against each further intrusion. "You always have to fight me," Wei Wuxian says sweetly as he fucks Jiang Cheng with that one finger. He crooks it up against somewhere that makes Jiang Cheng feel sensitive and shaky all over. "Does that feel good?"

"Just do it," Jiang Cheng says. "Do it!"

"You don't even know what you're asking for," Wei Wuxian says, his voice unsteady. Oh, it's satisfying to see him affected, to see his face flushed and lips bitten, his dark nails shining as he takes Jiang Cheng's dick in hand. Jiang Cheng did all those things to him. Yes. Jiang Cheng takes the next finger more easily. "It's okay if you come first."

Jiang Cheng has to shut his eyes for a moment. It's so much, watching Wei Wuxian watch him, feeling him inside and out. It's everything he wants, what he's wanted. It's Wei Wuxian.

"I want you to. I want you to come, Jiang Cheng."

He does.

When Jiang Cheng is next aware of his surroundings, Wei Wuxian is coming on him—all over Jiang Cheng's balls, dripping between his cheeks, nasty and hot and messy. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says as he collapses onto Jiang Cheng, hair spilling into Jiang Cheng's face. "I couldn't wait. You made me too excited."

"I did?" Jiang Cheng says, vaguely glad he's too out of it to react. He lets Wei Wuxian snuggle on top of him and doesn't even complain, because he is a humanitarian advocate, if the sum total of humanity is Wei Wuxian and perhaps Jiang Cheng himself, entirely contained on this bed. He brings up his arms and wraps them around Wei Wuxian, who squirms happily.

"You did," Wei Wuxian confirms. "Next time I'll get it in your ass. I promise."

Jiang Cheng tries to discreetly spit out a few strands of hair. "Sure you will."

They lie there, sticky and content, until Wei Wuxian's stomach grumbles.

Jiang Cheng wakes up the next morning to Wei Wuxian's phone vibrating on the nightstand. He picks it up and deposits it on Wei Wuxian's chest, then goes back to sleep for a little longer. Eventually, the light creeping in the window starts to get to him, as well as Wei Wuxian's fidgeting beside him. "Why are you even awake?" Jiang Cheng groans.

"Sangsang is texting me." Wei Wuxian rolls over to face Jiang Cheng. Whatever he sees on Jiang Cheng's face makes his smirk smooth into something softer. "Ah, Jiang Cheng. You don't have to be jealous. Kiss me with your gross mouth." He purses his lips exaggeratedly.

"I'm not jealous," Jiang Cheng says jealously—but less jealously than he said the same words last week, while he dragged Wei Wuxian out of Nie Huaisang's party before Wei Wuxian could go hook up with some random freshman who was blatantly angling for a bathroom hand job. Thinking about it makes his stomach churn, like some horrible dream.

Wei Wuxian brandishes his phone. "Look at Sangsang texting me that he is having a crisis about taking two dicks last night. He clearly just wants to brag about his throuple."

Jiang Cheng grumbles. "Huaisang always wants to brag."

"He does." Wei Wuxian yawns. He drops his phone onto the bed and cuddles up to Jiang Cheng, warm and reassuring. "Jiang Cheng... Jiang Cheng..."

"What?"

Slowly, Wei Wuxian's hand skims up Jiang Cheng's thigh. "What if... I put lipstick on... and I fucked you in the ass... and while I did, I called you mine? Would you like that?"

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes.

"No... you want me to call myself yours, right?" Wei Wuxian hesitates. "It's okay if you can't say it."

Horribly, Jiang Cheng realizes, he's going to have to be brave. He's going to have to be just as brave as Wei Wuxian for the entire rest of his life. "Yes," he says. "That's what I want. I want you."