"Ah!! Why are you acting like you're going to eat me for dinner?!" Wei Wuxian cried out, his voice a mixture of genuine alarm and theatrical despair. He managed to wriggle free for a split second, darting across the large, opulent room to stand behind the decorated bed, using it as a flimsy barricade.
If anyone were to rate wedding nights for sheer chaotic energy, theirs would undoubtedly claim the top rank. It was less a consummation and more an absurd, high-stakes chase scene.
Lan Wangji's jaw tightened, a visible tic in his otherwise flawless composure. The game had officially ended. In one fluid, powerful motion, he lunged. Before Wei Wuxian could even blink, a strong arm banded around his waist, lifting him clean off his feet as if he were made of straw.
"Hey—! Lan Zhan, put me down! This is undignified! We can talk about this—!"
But Lan Wangji was done talking. Done with words, done with evasion. In three long, purposeful strides, he crossed the room and pressed Wei Wuxian firmly against the wall.
Thud.
The impact was solid, driving the air from Wei Wuxian's lungs in a soft oof. Lan Wangji's body was flush against his—a solid wall of heat, muscle, and simmering intent. Wei Wuxian sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, his silver eyes wide as full moons.
Lan Wangji's fingers dug into the slender curve of his waist, possessive and hard—pressure that promised to leave marks by morning. His other hand came up, capturing both of Wei Wuxian's wrists in one large, unyielding grasp and pinning them high above his head against the cool wood.
Wei Wuxian's wrists felt delicate in his hold, trembling like captured birds.
"…Lan Zhan." The name was a whisper, strained and breathless.
Lan Wangji's gaze, dark as molten gold, burned into him.
"Shut up."
The command was low, guttural, leaving no room for argument. Wei Wuxian's next protest died in his throat, emerging as a strangled sound caught between a gasp and a whimper.
That sound—raw and unfiltered—seemed to resonate deep within Lan Wangji. He wanted to hear more of it. His grip tightened unconsciously. Wei Wuxian bit down on his lower lip, another choked noise escaping.
Lan Wangji's eyes narrowed. A feral, hungry darkness swirled in their depths. He leaned in until his lips were a hair's breadth from the shell of Wei Wuxian's ear, his voice a velvet-rough whisper that raised every hair on the other man's body.
"I said… shut. Up."
He punctuated each word with a deliberate, rolling press of his hips, pinning Wei Wuxian even more thoroughly against the wall.
'No, no, no, NO! It's getting worse! He might actually devour me whole tonight!' Wei Wuxian's thoughts screamed in a frantic loop, even as his body refused to obey any command to struggle. He was utterly immobilized, trapped by a weight and a will far greater than his own.
Lan Wangji had transitioned from reluctant groom to a man on a deadly serious mission.
Lan Wangji could feel the fine tremors wracking Wei Wuxian's frame. The scent of his skin—lotus, spice, and a hint of nervous sweat—was intoxicating. The frantic thrum of his heartbeat echoed against Lan Wangji's own chest. It was maddening. Delicious.
His self-control, honed over a lifetime of discipline, was fraying at the edges, threads snapping one by one. Tired of denial, tired of propriety, he buried his face in the warm crook of Wei Wuxian's neck and inhaled, as if he could breathe him in and keep him there forever.
A helpless whimper escaped Wei Wuxian. "Oomph… Gods…" Their heartbeats pounded a chaotic, synchronized rhythm against each other. Yet, he couldn't decipher if the frantic pace was from sheer panic or… something else entirely.
'No, it's nothing! Just pure, unadulterated panic! That's all!'
He tried to reason, his voice a trembling whisper. "L-Lan Zhan… I'm… tired. I can't… do… or… satisfy… you…" The words themselves felt scandalous, and his face burned as if set aflame.
Lan Wangji's breath hitched sharply. Those words—a pathetic, transparent attempt at deflection—ignited something hotter and wilder within him. He could feel the truth in Wei Wuxian's trembling, a vibration that spoke of anticipation, not dread.
He lifted his head, his gaze a scorching brand.
"Who said I wanted you to satisfy me?"
His voice was barely audible, a dark, intimate rasp.
"I just want you."
'Holy shit! How do I make you understand that this particular item on the menu is temporarily unavailable?! I'm stuck here for the sake of spiritual balance, not for… for wall-pinning!' Wei Wuxian lamented silently, a wave of helplessness washing over him. His only hope now was the iron-clad Lan schedule. Lan Wangji always fell asleep at nine.
His body continued its silent, involuntary shivering beneath the relentless press of Lan Wangji's.
Lan Wangji felt every tremor, every hitched breath. The bitten lip, the flushed skin, the fluttering eyelids—it was an exquisite torture, pushing him to the very brink. He shifted his weight, pressing his thigh firmly between Wei Wuxian's legs.
Wei Wuxian's eyes flew open, wide with shock.
Was it his imagination, or were those silver pupils blown wide? Lan Wangji leaned in again, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of Wei Wuxian's ear, making him jolt.
"Can you feel me?"
The hell…
He could feel everything—the solid muscle, the heat, the undeniable evidence of Lan Wangji's intent. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, a full-body shiver wracking him, centered entirely on the spot where Lan Wangji's whisper had touched.
"N… no," he denied, a last, stubborn act of self-preservation.
Lan Wangji exhaled—a slow, controlled release of air that felt like a countdown—and pressed even closer. Wei Wuxian's breath caught.
"Liar."
His thumb stroked over the frantic pulse in Wei Wuxian's wrist, feeling the wild, rabbit-quick beat beneath the skin.
"Your heart," he murmured, the words a soft accusation, "betrays you."
Wei Wuxian swallowed hard. The fear in the air had transmuted, shifted into something thicker, more electric. It wasn't fear of harm.
It was anticipation.
(And on some level, Wei Wuxian knew it.)
'Oh no… someone, please, save me from this man…'
As if in answer to his silent plea, a miracle occurred. Just as Wei Wuxian felt the front of his own wedding robe slipping open from their struggle, Lan Wangji's formidable posture wavered. A first, heavy wave of sleepiness seemed to crash over him. The combined effect of the unaccustomed wine and the tyrannical hands of the clock—striking the hallowed hour of nine—was calling its most devout disciple home.
Old habits, especially Lan habits, died exceptionally hard.
'Oh, dear gods! You actually heard me!' Elation surged through Wei Wuxian. A plan, clever and desperate, formed instantly. He changed his tactics entirely, his voice dropping into a tone so soft, so soothing, it could lull a raging beast into slumber.
"Lan Zhan…" he whispered, his voice like a gentle stream. "It's time to sleep~ You're so tired… just lay down~ Let me take care of you~"
The effect was immediate and profound. Lan Wangji's blazing golden eyes fluttered shut, his fierce grip slackening by a fraction. Wei Wuxian's voice was a silken rope pulling him under, a siren song of sleep he was biologically programmed to obey. He leaned his forehead against Wei Wuxian's shoulder, a low, incoherent sound of protest dying in his throat. The warmth, the heaviness, the soft whispering was too much. The last thing he registered was the scent of lotus and a tender command to "lay down" breathed against his skin.
'Hah! From a terrifying tiger to a pliant baby in seconds! Note to self: utilize this sleep-whisper technique every night. Strategic advantage: secured!'
Wei Wuxian thought triumphantly as he began to gently stroke Lan Wangji's hair, guiding his now-limp form away from the wall and toward the bed.
Lan Wangji made a soft, grumbling noise, nuzzling unconsciously into the comforting touch. His formidable strength melted away, leaving him pliant, heavy, and utterly adorable. The great Hanguang-jun, reduced to a sleepy, clingy kitten.
Wei Wuxian couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him as he maneuvered them both onto the bed, scattering rose petals. He looked down at the serene, sleeping face of his husband, the fierce intensity replaced by peaceful innocence. It was a rare and secretly delightful sight.
With a final, playful ruffle of those silky black locks, Wei Wuxian tucked the blankets around Lan Wangji and settled beside him, a wide, victorious grin spreading across his face in the darkness.
The first battle of the wedding night was over. And through sheer, ridiculous ingenuity, Wei Wuxian had won.