The inside of the bridal chamber was a masterpiece of romantic provocation. Red silk draped from the ceiling in soft cascades, covering every surface. Lanterns glowed with a warm, intimate light, and the air smelled faintly of sandalwood and rose petals. It was a scene designed to make anyone's nerves sing with anticipation—or, in one specific case, with pure, unadulterated panic.
Wei Wuxian stood rigidly before the window, his back to the room, staring at the moonlit courtyard below as if calculating the survivability of a two-story drop. Every line of his body screamed flight risk.
The soft, definitive click of the latch sounded behind him. Lan Wangji had closed the door, sealing them in. The silence that followed was louder than any wedding fanfare.
Lan Wangji set the bottles of Emperor's Smile and milk on a low lacquered table with deliberate calm. Then he approached, his footsteps silent on the plush rug. He stopped just behind his new husband, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.
"...Afraid?" Lan Wangji murmured, his voice a low, resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate in the space between Wei Wuxian's shoulder blades.
Wei Wuxian stiffened, his fingers digging into the wooden windowsill. "Lan Zhan," he said, the name coming out as a weak plea. "I—"
Lan Wangji's hand lifted, then hesitated. He could see the rapid flutter of Wei Wuxian's pulse at his throat, could almost hear the frantic drum of his heart. A decision was made. His hand settled not on a shoulder, but on the curve of Wei Wuxian's waist, the touch firm and possessive through the layers of silk.
Wei Wuxian made a small, choked sound—a gasp tangled with a whimper.
Lan Wangji's fingers tightened infinitesimally.
This, he thought with a surge of something fierce and tender, is going to be a very long night.
Wei Wuxian finally turned his head to look over his shoulder, his expression a perfect portrait of horrified, adorable panic. His eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted.
'Why does he have to look so romantic already?! That man is all holy solemnity on the outside and utter chaos inside!' His mind wailed.
He swallowed hard, his cheeks flaming but his hands icy cold. For a moment, he was paralyzed.
'I should have run away to the Burial Mounds and become a hermit. Why didn't I run?!'
Lan Wangji took another step, erasing the last bit of space. The heat of Wei Wuxian's back pressed against his chest. He inhaled deeply, the unique scent of lotus blossoms, spice, and sunshine that was purely Wei Ying filling his senses, more intoxicating than any wine.
He bent his head, his breath ghosting over the exposed skin of Wei Wuxian's neck.
Wei Wuxian's breath hitched audibly. The sensation sent a lightning bolt of shivers straight down his spine. The hand on his waist felt like a brand, both anchoring and terrifying. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum solo he was sure Lan Wangji could conduct an orchestra to.
Lan Wangji exhaled, a slow, controlled release of air, then lifted his other hand. His fingers brushed the edge of the red veil, tracing the intricate embroidery where it met the gold hairpin.
"Wei Ying." He murmured the name like a sacred incantation—a question, a plea, and a vow all at once.
Wei Wuxian shuddered.
The hairpin came loose. The veil slipped silently from his hair, a cascade of crimson silk that pooled at their feet like a fallen sunset.
Finally, Lan Wangji could see his face.
Oh.
Wei Wuxian was breathtaking. Flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears, his silver eyes wide and luminous with a potent mix of panic and something else—something that made Lan Wangji's own breath catch. His lips were parted, tempting.
Lan Wangji's thumb rose, brushing reverently over a sharp cheekbone.
"Breathe," he whispered.
Wei Wuxian, in that moment, genuinely forgot how.
'Any idea to escape! ANYONE! A diversion! A fire! A minor demonic invasion! Anything!'
His frantic gaze swept the room and landed on the bottle of Emperor's Smile. A desperate, brilliant, terrible plan ignited in his mind. Alcohol. Yes. If Lan Zhan drank enough, perhaps he'd just… fall asleep. Or at least become slower, less coordinated.
"My throat is… dry," Wei Wuxian blurted out, eyes shut tight as if saying the words physically pained him. "Let's drink! The… other things… can come later! I'm not in the mood!"
With that dramatic declaration, he bolted—not for the door, but for the massive, petal-strewn bed, as if it were a safe haven. He scrambled onto it, the cold rose petals making him shiver anew. With trembling hands, he poured two generous cups of the fragrant liquor.
Lan Wangji watched this entire performance, a silent, profound amusement warming him from within. The nervous flight, the way the red robes tangled around his legs, the dark hair spilling over his shoulder… It was adorable. Agonizingly so. He had to clench his hands in his sleeves to stop himself from simply grabbing.
He walked over, picked up the offered cup, and took a deliberate sip, his eyes never leaving Wei Wuxian's face.
Wei Wuxian, in a show of false bravado, tipped his own cup back and drank it in one go. His throat moved with each swallow, the soft, intimate sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. He hadn't meant for it to sound like that.
He needed Lan Zhan to drink more, to focus on the wine and not on him. He summoned the remnants of his once-effortless charm, now cracked with nerves.
"Drink it all, Lan Zhan~" he cooed, the tilde at the end wobbling precariously. "A man… a man like you is so much more attractive when he can hold his liquor! Show me you can stand strong after a few glasses!"
Lan Wangji's eyes darkened, the gold deepening to a smoldering amber. He knew this game. He saw the desperate strategy behind the flirtatious words. Very well. He would play.
He raised the cup to his lips, held Wei Wuxian's gaze with an intensity that promised consequences, and drained it in one smooth, unbroken motion.
Thunk. He set the empty cup down.
"Mn."
Wei Wuxian blinked. That… was not the reaction of a man being seduced into a stupor. That was the reaction of a man accepting a challenge.
Lan Wangji took a step closer to the bed. Too close.
Wei Wuxian scuttled backward like a crab, but Lan Wangji's hand shot out, catching his wrist. The grip was gentle but unyielding.
"Your turn."
Oh no.
Oh, this is backfiring spectacularly.
Wei Wuxian ducked his head. "O-okay." He poured another cup with slightly less steady hands and drank it, the alcohol starting to burn a warm, fuzzy path through his veins.
Lan Wangji watched, his gaze heavy-lidded, a faint, dangerous curve on his lips. The room was growing warmer, the air thicker. Wei Wuxian's flush deepened, his eyes growing glassy.
Lan Wangji plucked the empty cup from his slackening fingers and set it aside with finality.
"Enough."
He leaned in, one hand planting itself on the mattress beside Wei Wuxian's hip, caging him in. The scent of sandalwood and wine was overwhelming.
"Come here."
Wei Wuxian's panic, momentarily dulled by the alcohol, spiked anew. Lan Wangji didn't sound drowsy at all. He sounded… focused. Hungry.
"N-no, no! I've… I've got more challenges for you!" he protested, the words slurring just a little. He was, in essence, trying to make his own wedding night a series of expensive, impossible trials.
Lan Wangji's patience, stretched thin by months of longing and hours of tantalizing proximity, finally snapped. His jaw clenched. He took another step, kneeling on the edge of the bed, effectively trapping Wei Wuxian between his body and the mountain of pillows.
"Wei Ying." His voice was a low growl, stripped of its usual composure, raw with want. "Stop. Running." His fingers flexed against the sheets. "Before I really pin you down."
"N-no! Lan Zhan, don't you dare!" Wei Wuxian's eyes were saucers. He tried to scramble back but only succeeded in tangling himself further in the blankets.
Lan Wangji, slightly unsteady from the unaccustomed alcohol, wasn't as swift as usual, which led to a clumsy, brief grapple. They were no longer cultivator and necromancer; they were two boys in a ridiculous, high-stakes game of hide-and-seek in the most romantic setting imaginable.
"I can't be intimate with you!" Wei Wuxian finally wailed, his expression a hilarious mask of dramatic horror as he somehow ended up half-hiding behind a long, flowing bed curtain, clutching it to his chest like a shield.
Outside the room, passing by on a final round of vigilance, Lan Xichen paused. He heard a yelp, a thud, and the distinct sound of tearing silk. A serene, deeply satisfied smile spread across his face. He nodded to himself and continued on his way, the picture of a benevolent older brother.
Ah, he thought, his smile widening. Young love.
Back inside the chamber, Lan Wangji stared at the curtain shielding his husband. The last threads of his restraint vanished. He reached out, grabbed the red silk, and pulled.
Riiip.
The curtain tore cleanly in half.
Wei Wuxian yelped, exposed and off-balance, and stumbled backward—only for his feet to catch in his own robes. He landed flat on his back on the bed with a soft oomph, rose petals flying into the air around him like a startled blush.
Lan Wangji loomed over him, one hand planted on either side of Wei Wuxian's head, his breathing uneven, his golden eyes blazing with a fire that had nothing to do with anger. He looked down at his disheveled, wide-eyed, beautifully flushed husband, who was now very effectively pinned.
A slow, deliberate smile touched Lan Wangji's lips—a rare, dangerous, and utterly captivating sight.
He leaned down, his voice a velvet whisper against Wei Wuxian's ear.
"Caught you."