Archive of Our Own

"Wei Ying," came the smooth, deep voice from the doorway, already halfway out into the night. Lan Wangji put his qiankun pouch away, his eyes remaining on Wei Wuxian who was sprawled lazily across their bed. "Behave while I'm gone."

Wei Wuxian grinned, rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin on one hand. "Ah, Lan Zhan, when have I ever not behaved?" The look he received was so flat it could've leveled mountains.

Lan Wangji left without another word, the door sliding shut behind him with quiet finality. Wei Wuxian exhaled, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Outside, the distant shuffle of hooves against gravel made him pause. Suddenly, an indignant bray that they recognized echoed.

"Oh, come on," Wei Wuxian groaned, dragging himself upright just as someone shouldered open the Jingshi's door with surprising force. Little Apple's shaggy head poked through, ears twitching, nostrils flaring as he zeroed in on Wei Wuxian with unnerving focus.

"You," Wei Wuxian pointed accusingly, "are not supposed to be in here." Little Apple ignored him, clopping inside as if he owned the place—which, given how often he got his way, wasn't entirely untrue. His tail flicked, and Wei Wuxian didn't miss the way those dark eyes tracked his every move. "Hey, hey! Don’t you dare eat my notes again!"

Too late. A scroll vanished between teeth with a decisive crunch. Wei Wuxian lunged, grabbing for Little Apple, but the donkey sidestepped with shocking agility, nearly sending him face-first into the floor. "You little—!"

He caught himself, wheeling around just as Little Apple huffed, warm breath puffing against his cheek. They lingered, eye to eye, Wei Wuxian's pulse an unusual roar in his ears. Little Apple's gaze was... different tonight. Less animal, more *knowing*. It sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. Then, without warning, a rough, wet tongue dragged up the side of his face.

Wei Wuxian recoiled, wiping at his cheek with his sleeve. "Ugh! What the hell!" But Little Apple wasn't done. The donkey nudged forward, persistent, crowding him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed.

There was a long, tense silence.

"... Okay," Wei Wuxian stated with a pause, palms lifting as if to ward him off. "You're...you're really pushing it tonight."

Little Apple reacted by nibbling his fingers before nudging his palm with persistence. Wei Wuxian sighed, thinking that the donkey just wanted affection, and stroked its muzzle.

It was just petting Little Apple after all. Wei Wuxian’s fingers trailed through the donkey’s coarse mane, scratching idly behind its ears the way he always did when the beast wasn’t being a complete menace. Little Apple let out a pleased huff, leaning into his touch, his warm bulk pressing Wei Wuxian further until he fell onto the bed. The donkey lay on him, and he yelped, trying to shove the menace off but to no avail. He cursed at him, feebly struggling. His eyes met Little Apple's and he paused, those dark eyes pinned him, unblinking, sending a strange, liquid heat that pooled low in his stomach.

“You’re being weird tonight,” Wei Wuxian muttered, more to himself than the donkey, finally giving up on getting the donkey to move. Little Apple was being careful of his weight, making sure not to crush him, folding his legs. He continued stroking the stubborn animal, having little else to do now that he was pinned. His thumb brushed over the velvety spot just above Little Apple’s nostrils, and the donkey’s lips quivered, revealing a flash of teeth—not in threat, but something far more deliberate. A shiver ran down Wei Wuxian’s spine as the donkey’s muzzle nudged against his throat, hot breath ghosting over his skin. “Ah...stop that,” he laughed, but it came out breathless, his hands tightening in the donkey’s mane without meaning to.

He should've laughed it off, scolded him, something.

It wasn’t just petting anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.

Instead, his fingers twitched. Curled.

And, against every rational thought in his head, he didn't pull away.

Little Apple didn’t stop. His tongue dragged a slow, wet stripe up Wei Wuxian’s neck, rough and insistent, and Wei Wuxian gasped, hips jerking involuntarily. The sound seemed to spur the donkey on; he crowded closer, his muscular chest pressing Wei Wuxian flat against the mattress, one hoof braced beside his head for balance. The weight was overwhelming, the heat unbearable—and yet Wei Wuxian couldn’t bring himself to push him away. Not when Little Apple’s teeth scraped lightly over his collarbone, not when those lips found the dip of his throat and suckled in a way that made his back arch.

“Fuck,” Wei Wuxian breathed, his own hands sliding down the donkey’s neck, over the powerful slope of his shoulders. It was just petting, just—just touching, but his fingers trembled as they traced the hard lines of muscle beneath fur, as Little Apple’s muzzle worked lower, nuzzling insistently at the loose collar of his robes. The fabric slipped, baring his shoulder, and the donkey’s tongue swiped over his skin, hot and wet and perfect. Wei Wuxian arched into it, a broken noise escaping his lips. What the hell was happening!? And why didn't he want it to stop!?

Little Apple rumbled deep in his chest, the vibration shuddering through Wei Wuxian’s body as those lips found his nipple, tongue circling the peaked bud with relentless focus. Wei Wuxian cried out, fingers twisting in the donkey’s mane, his back bowing off the bed. “Ah! Little Apple, you...nngh...you can’t just..." The protest died in his throat as teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock.

Wei Wuxian’s legs fell open instinctively, one heel hooking over Little Apple’s flank as the donkey’s muzzle trailed lower, licking a wet path down his stomach. The fabric of his robes was shoved aside with impatient nuzzles, his erection straining against the thin fabric of his trousers. Little Apple’s nostrils flared, inhaling his scent, and Wei Wuxian whimpered, his hips stuttering upward.

“Please,” he gasped, not entirely sure what he was begging for—only that he needed it, needed more, needed the unbearable pressure of Little Apple’s tongue and teeth and weight. The donkey obliged without hesitation, lips closing around the outline of his cock through the fabric, and Wei Wuxian saw stars.

The fabric of Wei Wuxian’s trousers was no match for Little Apple’s persistence. With a sharp tug of teeth, the garment tore open, exposing his cock to the humid air and to the donkey’s relentless attention. Wei Wuxian barely had time to gasp before a broad, wet tongue swiped up the length of him, rough and perfect, dragging a broken moan from his lips. His hips jerked uncontrollably, his fingers tightened in Little Apple’s mane as the donkey’s muzzle pressed closer, nostrils flaring against his skin. The sensation was overwhelming—the heat, the texture, the way Little Apple’s tongue circled the head of his cock with deliberate, hungry strokes.

“Fuck—!” Wei Wuxian arched, his back lifting off the bed as Little Apple swallowed him down carefully managing his teeth, the stretch of his lips impossibly tight, impossibly good. The donkey’s rhythm was relentless, his tongue working in tandem with the suction of his mouth, and Wei Wuxian could only writhe beneath him, his thighs trembling with the effort to stay still. Every pull dragged him closer to the edge, every flick of that tongue sending sparks shooting up his spine. He never dreamed that something so wrong could feel so right.

Little Apple’s hoof shifted beside his head, the weight of his body pressing Wei Wuxian deeper into the mattress as he redoubled his efforts. The donkey’s lips slid down to the base of his cock, throat working around him in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, and Wei Wuxian’s vision whited out for a second, his toes curling.

“*Ah...ah...fuck, I’m—!” He couldn’t even form the warning before he was coming, his hips stuttering as he spilled into Little Apple’s mouth with a choked cry. The donkey swallowed around him, tongue lapping at the oversensitive flesh until Wei Wuxian was squirming, oversensitive and breathless.

But Little Apple wasn’t done. With a low, rumbling sound, he pulled back, his muzzle glistening, and Wei Wuxian barely had time to process the loss before the donkey was nudging his legs further apart, his hot breath ghosting over his thighs. Wei Wuxian shuddered, his spent cock twitching as Little Apple’s tongue traced the crease of his thigh, then lower, pressing insistently against his hole.

Wei Wuxian gasped, his hips jerking at the first wet swipe. “Wait! You can’t—!”

But the protest dissolved into a moan as Little Apple’s tongue pressed inside, the broad, flat muscle working him open with relentless precision. The sensation was dizzying, the rough texture, the heat, the way Little Apple’s lips sealed around him, suckling, as if determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from his body. Wei Wuxian’s thighs shook, his hands fisting in the sheets as the donkey’s tongue delved deeper, curling just so, and he came again with a strangled cry, his body convulsing with the force of it.

Little Apple didn’t stop. He lapped at Wei Wuxian’s oversensitive flesh, his breath coming in hot, uneven gusts against his skin, and Wei Wuxian could feel the donkey’s own arousal pressing insistently against his thigh—thick, heavy, desperate. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in his gut.

“You....you want me to—” Wei Wuxian’s voice cracked as Little Apple nudged forward, his cock sliding against Wei Wuxian’s thigh. The donkey’s eyes were dark, hungry, and Wei Wuxian knew, with sudden, terrifying clarity, that he wasn’t getting out of this untouched.

He didn’t want to.

With a shaky breath, Wei Wuxian reached down, his fingers wrapping around Little Apple’s length. The donkey shuddered, a guttural sound escaping him as Wei Wuxian guided him closer, his other hand spreading himself open. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice rough with want. “Okay, take me.”

Little Apple needed no further encouragement.

Little Apple surged forward with a force that knocked the breath from Wei Wuxian’s lungs. The donkey’s thick cock pressed against his entrance, blunt and unyielding, and Wei Wuxian gasped, his nails digging into the donkey’s shoulders. For a heartbeat, there was resistance, then the slick, burning stretch as Little Apple pushed inside, inch by torturous inch. Wei Wuxian’s head fell back, his mouth hanging open in a soundless cry as the donkey’s hips snapped forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

“Ah—!” Wei Wuxian’s voice shattered, his body arching off the bed as Little Apple’s cock stretched him impossibly wide, the heat of it searing him from the inside out. The donkey didn’t pause, didn’t give him time to adjust—just began moving with a rhythm as relentless as the tide, his powerful hips driving into Wei Wuxian with a force that rattled the bedframe. Each thrust dragged a ragged noise from Wei Wuxian’s throat, his fingers scrabbling for purchase in the donkey’s mane as pleasure coiled tight in his gut, sharper than any blade.

Little Apple’s breath came in hot, ragged gusts against his neck, his teeth scraping over Wei Wuxian’s collarbone as he fucked into him with single-minded intensity. The donkey’s cock rubbed against that sweet spot inside him with every snap of his hips, and Wei Wuxian sobbed, his thighs trembling around Little Apple’s flanks. It was too much—the stretch, the friction, the way the donkey’s weight pinned him down, owned him—and yet he couldn’t stop the way his body clenched around him, greedy for more.

“Fuck….fuck.... yes!” Wei Wuxian’s voice was raw, his cock leaking against his stomach as Little Apple’s pace grew erratic, his thrusts losing their rhythm in favor of sheer, desperate need. The donkey’s hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside Wei Wuxian, and he came with a sound like a wounded animal, his teeth sinking into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder as he spilled deep inside him. Wei Wuxian followed with a broken cry, his own release painting his stomach in hot stripes, his vision whiting out at the edges.

For a long moment, the only sound in the Jingshi was their ragged breathing, the occasional creak of the bed as Little Apple shifted above him. Then slowly, reluctantly, the donkey pulled out, his cock slipping free with a wet sound that made Wei Wuxian shudder. Little Apple nuzzled at his jaw, his tongue swiping lazily over the bite mark on his shoulder, and Wei Wuxian laughed weakly, his limbs boneless with exhaustion.

“You’re insane,” he murmured, his fingers carding through Little Apple’s mane as the donkey settled beside him, his warm bulk pressed against Wei Wuxian’s side. The donkey huffed, as if in agreement, and Wei Wuxian grinned, tilting his head to press a kiss to the top of his muzzle. “And perfect.”

Little Apple’s muzzle pressed insistently against Wei Wuxian’s lips, warm and damp, his rough tongue flicking out to trace the seam of his mouth. Wei Wuxian blinked, momentarily stunned, before a breathy laugh escaped him. “What are you—mmph—!” The donkey didn’t wait for permission. His tongue slid past Wei Wuxian’s parted lips, hot and insistent, licking deep into his mouth with a possessiveness that sent a jolt of heat straight to Wei Wuxian’s already oversensitive cock. The taste was earthy, animal, real, with the sweetness of apples, and Wei Wuxian moaned into it, his hands lifting instinctively to grip Little Apple’s ears.

The donkey rumbled low in his chest, his weight shifting, his muscular body slotting between Wei Wuxian’s thighs. Their kisses grew deeper, languid, Little Apple’s tongue mapping every inch of Wei Wuxian’s mouth as if memorizing him. Wei Wuxian arched beneath him, his arms sliding around the donkey’s neck to pull him closer, their bodies flush. Little Apple’s warmth was intoxicating, his scent filling Wei Wuxian’s lungs—hay and sweat and something unmistakably wild—and he found himself chasing the contact, his fingers tangling in the donkey’s coarse mane.

Time blurred. There was only the slick slide of their tongues, the occasional scrape of teeth, the way Little Apple’s breath hitched whenever Wei Wuxian bit down lightly on his lower lip as they learned how to kiss each other. The donkey’s hips rolled against his, the evidence of his renewed arousal pressing insistently against Wei Wuxian’s thigh, and Wei Wuxian gasped into the kiss, his own cock twitching in response. “Again?” he murmured, laughing breathlessly as Little Apple nipped at his jaw in answer.

Their next kiss was messy, wet, and entirely overwhelming—Their breaths mingled, hot and uneven, as Little Apple’s muzzle slanted over his mouth again and again, his lips surprisingly soft against Wei Wuxian’s own. The donkey’s ears twitched under Wei Wuxian’s wandering hands, sensitive to every brush of his fingertips, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but chuckle into the kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles at the base of them. Little Apple shuddered, a low, pleased sound rumbling in his chest as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against Wei Wuxian’s in a rhythm that was unmistakably intimate.

Wei Wuxian’s hips arched instinctively, seeking friction, and Little Apple responded with a grinding roll of his own, the thick length of his cock pressing insistently against Wei Wuxian’s thigh. The heat of it sent a fresh wave of desire pooling low in Wei Wuxian’s stomach, his own arousal stirring despite the exhaustion lingering in his limbs. He broke the kiss with a gasp, his lips swollen and glistening, only for Little Apple to chase after him, nuzzling along his jaw before recapturing his mouth with a hunger that bordered on needy.

The donkey’s weight was intoxicating—solid and warm, his fur rough against Wei Wuxian’s sweat-slick skin. Wei Wuxian wrapped his arms around Little Apple’s neck, pulling him closer still, his legs falling open to accommodate the donkey’s bulk between them. The movement drew a pleased huff from Little Apple, his hips rolling again, the blunt head of his cock dragging wetly against Wei Wuxian’s stomach. Wei Wuxian keened, his nails scraping lightly over the donkey’s shoulders, and Little Apple responded with a sharp thrust, his cock sliding against Wei Wuxian’s in a slick, maddening tease.

“Ah…you….mmph…..bastard—” Wei Wuxian’s complaint dissolved into a moan as Little Apple swallowed the sound, his tongue licking deep into Wei Wuxian’s mouth as if determined to taste every corner of him. The donkey’s muzzle pressed insistently against his lips, rough and wet, and Wei Wuxian gasped as those teeth nipped lightly at his lower lip—not enough to hurt, just enough to make his pulse stutter.

But when Little Apple’s tongue slid against his again, Wei Wuxian arched beneath him, his fingers tightening in the donkey’s mane as he kissed back with equal fervor, heat coiling low in his stomach, his cock twitching against Little Apple’s belly. The donkey rumbled in approval, his weight shifting to settle more firmly between Wei Wuxian’s thighs, his muscular body pinning him to the bed with a possessiveness that left no room for protest.

A sharp thrust of the donkey’s hips sent pleasure sparking up Wei Wuxian’s spine, his cock leaking against his stomach as Little Apple’s length dragged against his own in a slick, torturous slide. “Fuck! You’re….ah….insatiable,” Wei Wuxian gasped, his voice rough with want, and Little Apple huffed against his skin, his breath hot as he licked a stripe up Wei Wuxian’s throat.

The donkey’s muzzle returned to his mouth, his tongue sliding against Wei Wuxian’s in a rhythm that was unmistakably fucking him, even without the press of his cock. Wei Wuxian moaned into it, his thighs trembling as Little Apple’s hips rolled again, the blunt head of his arousal catching against Wei Wuxian’s hole—teasing, not yet pushing inside.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers twisted in Little Apple’s mane, his body alight with need. “Do it,” he breathed against the donkey’s lips, his voice wrecked. “Take me again.”

Little Apple obeyed.

The second breach was easier—still tight, still burning, but Wei Wuxian’s body yielded now, opening for him with desperate eagerness. The donkey’s cock stretched him impossibly wide, every inch sinking deeper until Wei Wuxian swore he could feel him in his throat. Little Apple’s thrusts were slower this time, deeper, each one dragging against that sweet spot inside until Wei Wuxian was sobbing, his legs wrapped tight around the donkey’s flanks.

Their kisses grew sloppy, wet, Little Apple’s tongue mapping Wei Wuxian’s mouth between ragged gasps. Wei Wuxian clung to him, his nails scraping over sweat-slick fur, his hips lifting to meet each thrust. The pleasure built like a storm, relentless and consuming, until Wei Wuxian shattered with a cry, his body clamping down around Little Apple’s cock.

The donkey followed with a shuddering groan, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled deep inside him. Wei Wuxian whimpered at the heat of it, his limbs going boneless as Little Apple collapsed atop him, his breath hot against Wei Wuxian’s throat.

They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together in the aftermath. Then, with a contented sigh, Little Apple nuzzled into Wei Wuxian’s neck, his tongue swiping lazily over the bite marks he’d left earlier.

Wei Wuxian laughed weakly, his fingers carding through the donkey’s mane. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, but there was no heat in it—only fondness, and something dangerously close to affection.

Wei Wuxian bit his lip, his fingers trembling against Little Apple’s sweat-damp fur. The realization settled in his chest like sunlight—warm, undeniable. He wanted this. Wanted him. The donkey’s dark eyes held a depth Wei Wuxian had never noticed before, a knowing that went beyond animal instinct. Little Apple chose him. Loved him. And Wei Wuxian—reckless, insatiable Wei Wuxian—couldn’t bring himself to deny either of them. But only with Lan Wangji's agreement for this to continue. No matter how much he wanted more, his husband would always come first.

"Little Apple," he whispered, thumbs brushing the soft space beneath the donkey’s eyes. The name felt different now, intimate, like a secret shared between them. The donkey huffed, nosing at his jaw, and Wei Wuxian laughed, breathless. "You’re impossible."

But his hands slid down to cradle Little Apple’s muzzle, pulling him closer until their lips met again in a kiss that was less exploration and claiming.

The donkey responded with a hunger that bordered on desperation, his tongue plunging into Wei Wuxian’s mouth like he couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. Wei Wuxian moaned into it, his hips arching instinctively, seeking friction against Little Apple’s muscular flanks. The donkey’s cock, still half-hard, twitched against his thigh, and Wei Wuxian shuddered, his own arousal stirring anew despite the exhaustion humming in his limbs.

Their tongues danced together, rubbing and sliding, and so good. Their lips broke apart as they gasped for air.

"Ah! You—"

Wei Wuxian's breath hitched as Little Apple's cock slid against his own, already hardening again despite the slick mess between them. "You're relentless," he gasped, but his legs fell open wider, heels digging into the donkey's flanks. The animal's response was a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through Wei Wuxian's chest, his muzzle pressing insistently against Wei Wuxian's throat—not biting, not claiming, just holding, as if the donkey understood this moment was more than just fucking.

The realization coiled warm in Wei Wuxian's gut. He reached up, fingers tracing the curve of Little Apple's ears, marveling at the way they twitched under his touch.

"You planned this," he murmured, half-accusation, half-admiration. The donkey huffed, his tongue swiping over Wei Wuxian's pulse point in answer. Of course he had. The stubborn beast had waited years for this chance, watching, wanting, until Lan Wangji's absence gave him the opening he needed.

Little Apple's hips rolled again, his cock dragging wetly against Wei Wuxian's hole—teasing, maddeningly deliberate. Wei Wuxian groaned, his back arching. "Stop torturing me," he demanded, but his hands were already sliding down to guide the donkey's length back to where he needed it most. Little Apple obliged with a thrust that punched the air from Wei Wuxian's lungs, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

This time, the pace was slow, agonizingly so. Little Apple moved like he had all night (and he did, Wei Wuxian realized dizzily), each thrust deep enough to make Wei Wuxian’s toes curl, the drag of his cock deliberate against that spot inside that had Wei Wuxian seeing stars. The donkey’s muzzle pressed against his throat, breath hot and uneven, as if savoring every gasp, every shudder.

Wei Wuxian arched beneath him, his nails scoring red lines down Little Apple’s shoulders. “Harder,” he demanded, voice wrecked, and the donkey obeyed with a snap of his hips that made the bed creak ominously. The force of it stole Wei Wuxian’s breath, his cock leaking untouched against his stomach as Little Apple fucked into him with a rhythm that bordered on devotional.

The donkey’s tongue swiped over his collarbone, rough and wet, before those teeth closed gently over his nipple. Wei Wuxian yelped, his back bowing off the bed, but Little Apple didn’t relent—suckling, licking, teasing until Wei Wuxian was sobbing, his thighs trembling around the donkey’s flanks. “Fuck—I’m—I can’t—” His voice broke as Little Apple’s cock rubbed insistently against his prostate, the pleasure coiling tight, too tight, in his gut.

Little Apple seemed to sense it. His thrusts grew sharper, deeper, his breath coming in ragged bursts against Wei Wuxian’s skin. The donkey’s weight pinned him perfectly, his thick cock hitting that spot just right, and Wei Wuxian came with a cry, his vision whiting out as his body clenched around Little Apple’s length. The donkey followed with a shuddering groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside him, his teeth sinking into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder in a final, possessive claim.

They lay tangled together afterward, sweat-slick and breathless. Little Apple’s muzzle nuzzled lazily against Wei Wuxian’s throat, his tongue swiping over the bite marks he’d left earlier—cleaning, Wei Wuxian realized with a breathless laugh. “Ah—tickles,” he murmured, his fingers carding through the donkey’s mane. Little Apple huffed, unrepentant, and Wei Wuxian grinned, tilting his head to press a kiss to the top of his muzzle. But it was only minutes later that they were fucking again.

Little Apple's hips rolled in a deep, languid rhythm, each thrust pressing Wei Wuxian deeper into the mattress as if the donkey meant to fuse them together. The initial sharp pleasure had melted into something slower, hotter—an ache that coiled thick and syrupy in Wei Wuxian's gut.

"Ahh... ahh.." His moans spilled unchecked now, his fingers twisting in the donkey's mane as Little Apple sheathed himself to the hilt with deliberate, maddening precision. The donkey's breath gusted warm against his throat, his muscles trembling with restraint, and Wei Wuxian whimpered, his legs tightening around Little Apple's flanks.

"Don't—don't stop—"

The plea shattered into a gasp as Little Apple obeyed, his thrusts deepening further, the drag of his cock so slow Wei Wuxian could feel every ridge, every pulse. It was too much—the fullness, the heat, the way Little Apple's weight pinned him so completely—and yet Wei Wuxian arched into it, his body alight with a need that bordered on desperation. The donkey's muzzle found his again, their lips meeting in a kiss that was less clash and more conversation, Little Apple's tongue mapping the inside of Wei Wuxian's mouth with a possessiveness that left him dizzy.

Time blurred. The rhythm shifted without warning—deep, rolling thrusts giving way to frantic snaps of Little Apple's hips, the force of it driving Wei Wuxian up the bed with each jarring impact.

"Ahh! Gods—!" Wei Wuxian's voice cracked, his nails scoring down the donkey's shoulders as pleasure sparked white-hot along his nerves. Little Apple's breath came in rough, stuttering bursts, his body shuddering with the effort to hold back, but Wei Wuxian wanted him unraveled. He dug his heels into the donkey's flanks, urging him deeper, harder, until Little Apple's control splintered entirely.

The bedframe groaned in protest as Little Apple fucked into him with abandon, his powerful hips pistoning in a rhythm that left Wei Wuxian breathless. His thighs trembled around the donkey’s flanks, his cock bouncing untouched against his stomach with each brutal thrust.

"F-fuck….like that…." Wei Wuxian gasped, his voice shattered beyond recognition as Little Apple’s cock rubbed relentlessly against his prostate. The donkey’s muzzle pressed hot against his throat, teeth scraping over his pulse point in warning before biting down—hard—and Wei Wuxian came with a strangled cry, his body clamping around Little Apple’s length like a vice.

The donkey followed with a shuddering groan, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing deep inside Wei Wuxian. The heat of it seared him from the inside, spilling in thick, relentless waves until Wei Wuxian whimpered from oversensitivity, his thighs quivering around Little Apple’s hips. The donkey didn’t pull out—just collapsed atop him, his weight pinning Wei Wuxian to the sweat-slick sheets as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers traced lazy circles in Little Apple’s damp fur, his lips brushing against the donkey’s twitching ear. "You’re heavy," he murmured, though there was no real complaint.
The sky outside was beginning to lighten—dawn creeping in through the Jingshi’s paper screens. Wei Wuxian traced the curve of Little Apple’s ear absently, his body humming with satisfaction.

“Lan Zhan will be back by midday,” he mused, half to himself. The donkey’s ears flicked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. Wei Wuxian laughed, scritching under his chin. “Relax. He won’t mind.” At least he hoped he wouldn't. He expertly hid his nervousness about that.

Little Apple snorted, as if doubting him, and Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell him,” he insisted, fingers trailing down the donkey’s neck. “He’ll probably just scold me for being shameless.” His grin widened. “And then he’ll fuck me again to make sure I remember who my husband is.”

The donkey’s response was a sharp nip to his shoulder—possessive, warning. Wei Wuxian yelped, swatting at him halfheartedly. “Ow You brat—”

But Little Apple was already ducking his head, licking apologetically at the fresh mark. Wei Wuxian sighed, his fingers tightening in the donkey’s mane. “...You’re staying,” he murmured, softer now. It wasn’t a question.

Little Apple nudged his nose against Wei Wuxian’s cheek—agreement, promise—before settling heavily against his side, his warmth a tangible weight.

The first light of dawn painted the Jingshi in soft gold when Wei Wuxian stirred again, Little Apple’s warmth a solid line along his back. The donkey’s muzzle was tucked against his nape, breath rhythmic and deep, one heavy hoof draped possessively over Wei Wuxian’s hip. He smiled sleepily, stretching, only to wince as the movement tugged at sore muscles and the bite marks littering his skin. Little Apple had really gone to town.

A chuckle escaped him. The donkey’s ears twitched at the sound, and Wei Wuxian twisted to face him, cupping his muzzle. “Morning, you menace,” he murmured, thumb brushing the velvety fur beneath Little Apple’s eye. The donkey huffed, nosing into his palm before licking a slow, wet stripe up his wrist—claiming, affectionate. Wei Wuxian’s pulse jumped. “Ah—still insatiable, huh?”

Little Apple’s response was to roll atop him, pinning Wei Wuxian effortlessly beneath his bulk. The donkey’s cock, already half-hard, pressed insistently against his thigh. Wei Wuxian groaned, his own body responding despite the ache. His protest dissolved into a gasp as Little Apple’s tongue swiped over his collarbone, rough and hot. “—are going to kill me.”

The donkey ignored him, his muzzle trailing lower, teeth scraping lightly over a nipple until Wei Wuxian arched with a whimper. Little Apple’s hips rolled, the thick length of him dragging against Wei Wuxian’s spent cock, and fuck, it shouldn’t have felt this good so soon. Wei Wuxian’s fingers tangled in his mane, tugging. “Slow—ah—slow down—”

Little Apple didn’t. His tongue lapped lower, down Wei Wuxian’s stomach, pausing to swirl around his navel before continuing south. Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched, thighs falling open instinctively. “

Wei Wuxian gasped as Little Apple’s tongue flicked over his still-sensitive cockhead, the rough heat of it sending sparks up his spine. His hips jerked involuntarily, his fingers tightening in the donkey’s mane.

“Fuck!” The word dissolved into a moan as Little Apple swallowed him down to the root, his throat working around Wei Wuxian’s length with practiced ease. The donkey’s eyes gleamed with mischief, a challenge as he pulled back slowly, his tongue curling around the underside of Wei Wuxian’s cock in a way that had his toes curling.

The dawn light painted Little Apple’s fur in gold, highlighting the flex of his powerful shoulders as he moved lower, nuzzling between Wei Wuxian’s thighs. The donkey’s breath was hot against his oversensitive entrance, still stretched and slick from earlier, and Wei Wuxian shuddered, his legs falling open wider in silent invitation. Little Apple didn’t hesitate. His tongue pressed inside with a single, relentless stroke, broad and wet, and Wei Wuxian arched off the bed with a broken cry, his nails scoring down the donkey’s shoulders.

Little Apple feasted on him like a man starved, his tongue licking deep, claiming, as if determined to memorize the taste of him. Wei Wuxian panted, his thighs trembling, every nerve alight with pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.

“Ah—ah—” His voice cracked as Little Apple’s lips sealed around him, sucking, the wet heat of it dragging another orgasm from his spent body. Wei Wuxian sobbed, his back bowing as his cock twitched helplessly against his stomach, spilling nothing but thin, aching pulses.

The donkey didn’t stop. His tongue worked him through the aftershocks, gentler now, lapping at Wei Wuxian’s quivering flesh as if soothing him. Wei Wuxian whimpered, his fingers carding weakly through Little Apple’s mane. “Enough,” he rasped, his voice raw. “I—I can’t—”

Little Apple huffed, nuzzling against his inner thigh before reluctantly pulling away. His cock, thick and heavy, pressed against Wei Wuxian’s hip—demanding. Wei Wuxian laughed breathlessly, reaching down to wrap his fingers around the donkey’s length. “Greedy,” he murmured, thumb swiping over the slick head. Little Apple shuddered, his hips jerking into Wei Wuxian’s grip, and the sight of him—needy, desperate—sent a fresh thrill through Wei Wuxian’s gut.

He guided Little Apple closer, spreading his legs wider, his body still loose and pliant from earlier. The donkey needed no further encouragement. He surged forward, his cock pressing against Wei Wuxian’s entrance with a familiarity that made Wei Wuxian’s breath catch. There was no resistance this time—just the slow, burning stretch as Little Apple sheathed himself inside, inch by torturous inch. Wei Wuxian groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as the donkey’s hips met his, their bodies flush.

Little Apple moved with a languid, rolling rhythm, his thrusts deep enough to steal Wei Wuxian’s breath. The donkey’s muzzle pressed against his throat, his breath hot and uneven, and Wei Wuxian turned his head, capturing Little Apple’s lips in a kiss that was more breath than substance. The donkey rumbled in approval, his tongue sliding against Wei Wuxian’s in a mimicry of their joined bodies.

The pleasure built slowly this time, a thick, syrupy heat pooling in Wei Wuxian’s gut with each deliberate thrust. Little Apple’s cock rubbed against his prostate with unerring accuracy, and Wei Wuxian gasped, his nails digging into the donkey’s shoulders.

“Ther! Right there!” His voice was wrecked, his thighs trembling around Little Apple’s flanks as the donkey obeyed, his hips snapping forward with renewed force.

Wei Wuxian came with a cry, his body clenching around Little Apple’s cock in rhythmic pulses, his vision whiting out at the edges. The donkey followed with a shuddering groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside, his teeth sinking into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder in a final, possessive claim.

They lay tangled together afterward, sweat-slick and breathless. Little Apple nuzzled lazily against Wei Wuxian’s throat, his tongue swiping over the fresh bite mark. Wei Wuxian laughed weakly, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, and reached up to scratch behind the donkey’s ears. “You’re never satisfied,” he murmured, though there was no real reproach in his voice. Little Apple huffed, nipping playfully at his fingers before settling more comfortably against him, his warm bulk a grounding weight.

The sun had fully risen now, casting golden light across the Jingshi’s disordered bedding—sheets tangled, pillows scattered, evidence of their night strewn everywhere. Wei Wuxian traced idle patterns along Little Apple’s flank, his fingertips catching on the occasional twitch of muscle beneath coarse fur. The donkey’s ears flicked intermittently, listening to the distant sounds of Cloud Recesses waking, footsteps on the paths, the murmur of disciples beginning their morning drills.

Wei Wuxian’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Little Apple lifted his head, ears swiveling forward in interest. “Don’t look at me like that,” Wei Wuxian groaned, flopping an arm over his eyes. “I’m not sharing my breakfast with you. Again.” The donkey snorted, unimpressed, and butted his head against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder—demanding. Wei Wuxian peeked out from under his arm. “...No!"

A sudden sound at the door froze them both. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. “Shit,” he hissed, scrambling to sit up—only to wince as sore muscles protested. Little Apple remained sprawled across the bed, utterly unrepentant, his tail flicking against Wei Wuxian’s thigh.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji’s voice, smooth as ever, filtered through the Jinshi as he entered. “You’re awake early.”

Wei Wuxian’s pulse jumped. He hadn’t expected Lan Wangji back until midday—but of course his husband would finish his night hunt ahead of schedule. Little Apple’s ears pricked forward, his dark eyes gleaming with something perilously close to challenge. Wei Wuxian grabbed his muzzle, pressing a frantic finger to his own lips. “Not a sound,” he whispered.

The donkey blinked at him, slow and deliberate, before licking a broad stripe up Wei Wuxian’s palm.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji’s tone shifted slightly, curious now.

Wei Wuxian cleared his throat. “Ah—Lan Zhan! You’re back early!” He winced at the unnatural pitch of his voice. Little Apple’s tail thumped lazily against his thigh, the donkey’s breath hot against his bare hip where he still hadn’t moved. Wei Wuxian shoved at him futilely. “One moment—!”

The door slid open before he could disentangle himself.

Lan Wangji stood frozen in the doorway, his pristine white robes a stark contrast to the debauched scene before him—Wei Wuxian sprawled naked beneath a smug-looking donkey, bite marks littering his throat, the sheets reeking of sex. His golden eyes flickered from Wei Wuxian’s flushed face to Little Apple’s possessive sprawl. The silence stretched.

Wei Wuxian grinned weakly. “So… funny story—”

Little Apple chose that moment to lick a slow, wet stripe up Wei Wuxian’s ribs. Lan Wangji’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers twitched minutely against Bichen’s hilt.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Wei Wuxian lied, patting Little Apple’s neck as if that explained anything. The donkey nibbled his earlobe.

Lan Wangji stepped inside and closed the door with deliberate calm. “Mn.” His gaze trailed over the bite marks on Wei Wuxian’s collarbones. “You are… uninjured.”

Wei Wuxian’s laugh came out strangled. “Very! Extremely uninjured. In fact—” Little Apple’s cock twitched against his thigh, and Wei Wuxian yelped. “*See?! He’s—ah—friendly!”

Lan Wangji’s eyes darkened. He set Bichen aside with ominous precision.

Little Apple’s ears pricked forward as Lan Wangji approached, his tail flicking once, challenging. Wei Wuxian held his breath as his husband knelt beside the bed, reaching past the donkey to thumb a fresh bite on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Explain,” Lan Wangji murmured, his voice deceptively mild.

Wei Wuxian swallowed. “He… may have seduced me.”

Lan Wangji’s thumb pressed harder into the mark. Little Apple snorted.

“Fine! I seduced him back!” Wei Wuxian huffed, crossing his arms. “He was very persistent, Lan Zhan. And—” Lan Wangji silenced him by pressing a finger against his mouth. "I have breakfast. You will clean," he said in a voice that expected to be obeyed. "And he will leave."

The donkey’s ears flattened—indignant—but Lan Wangji stared him down. “Mine.”

The donkey bared his teeth—challenging—until Lan Wangji’s hand settled heavily on his flank. A pulse of spiritual energy rippled through the contact, and Little Apple startled, his ears flicking wildly. Wei Wuxian gaped. “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji ignored him, his fingers tightening in Little Apple’s mane as he leaned down, murmuring something against the donkey’s ear in a tone too low for Wei Wuxian to catch. Little Apple stilled. Then, with a huff, he reluctantly climbed off the bed, his tail flicking once—sulking—before trotting off, leaving the Jingshi.

Wei Wuxian blinked. “...What.”

Lan Wangji turned back to him, golden eyes dark. “Wei Ying. You will not forget who your husband is.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched. “Never,” he promised, grinning as Lan Wangji’s fingers traced the bite marks littering his inner thighs. “But Lan Zhan….you’re not... angry?”

Lan Wangji’s thumb pressed against the bruise on Wei Wuxian’s hip—possessive. “No. I knew.”

Wei Wuxian gaped. "What!? How-"

Lan Wangji moved with the quiet efficiency of a man who had anticipated this very scenario—the steaming bathwater already drawn, fresh robes folded neatly on the low table beside it. Wei Wuxian watched, propped up on his elbows, as his husband added a handful of medicinal herbs to the water, their earthy scent unfurling in the humid air.

"You... knew?" Wei Wuxian repeated, voice cracking. His thighs still trembled faintly, sticky with sweat and other things he'd rather not name. Lan Wangji didn't answer, merely testing the water's temperature with two fingers before turning to him. The sunlight caught the curve of his jaw, the set of his shoulders—utterly composed, save for the way his thumb kept tracing the hilt of Bichen.

Wei Wuxian swallowed. "Lan Zhan. Look at me."

Lan Wangji did. His golden eyes were darker than usual, pupils blown wide, and Wei Wuxian's breath hitched. There was something terrifyingly deliberate in that gaze, the same focus Lan Wangji reserved for night hunts, for composing music, for peeling Wei Wuxian apart in their bed.

Lan Wangji knelt beside the tub, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms flexing as he stirred the steaming water with slow, precise motions. The scent of medicinal herbs—chrysanthemum for relaxation, honeysuckle for sore muscles—rose in the steam, curling around Wei Wuxian’s bare ankles as he shuffled closer.

“You planned this,” Wei Wuxian accused, his voice still hoarse. He gestured at the bath, the robes, the towel draped over Lan Wangji’s arm like a servant awaiting orders. “You knew I’d—” His throat clicked. “that he’d—”

Lan Wangji’s fingers paused mid-stir. A single droplet fell from his wrist, rippling the surface. “Mn. The choice was yours.”

The confirmation shouldn’t have sent heat curling low in Wei Wuxian’s belly. And yet.

Lan Wangji’s hands were steady as he tested the water again, though Wei Wuxian knew—knew—those fingers had trembled when he'd first seen the state of the Jingshi. The bath steamed gently, the scent of medicinal herbs thickening the air, and Lan Wangji’s sleeves were rolled precisely to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle. Wei Wuxian watched, throat dry, as his husband reached for a vial of oil—not the usual cleansing kind, but something darker, spiced. The kind they used when Lan Wangji intended to take his time.

"You're not even going to explain?" Wei Wuxian croaked, shifting uncomfortably as a trickle of Little Apple’s spend slid down his thigh. Lan Wangji’s gaze tracked the movement with predatory focus before he rose in one fluid motion, stepping over the scattered bedding to lift Wei Wuxian effortlessly into his arms. The sudden weightlessness punched a surprised noise from Wei Wuxian’s chest as Lan Wangji carried him to the bath, his grip unyielding around his waist.

The water was hotter than Wei Wuxian expected, just shy of scalding. He hissed as Lan Wangji lowered him in, the heat searing into his abused muscles. Lan Wangji didn’t release him immediately, his palms sliding down Wei Wuxian’s ribs to anchor him in place as the medicinal steam curled around them both. "You left the donkey unsupervised with me on purpose," Wei Wuxian accused, squirming as Lan Wangji’s thumbs pressed into the bite marks on his hips. "Lan Zhan, that’s….ah….that’s practically—"

"Your choice," Lan Wangji murmured, reaching for a washcloth. The rough linen scraped over Wei Wuxian’s collarbone with deliberate pressure, scrubbing away the evidence of Little Apple’s attentions. Wei Wuxian shivered despite the heat, his cock twitching pathetically when Lan Wangji’s knuckles brushed his nipple.

"What?" Wei Wuxian’s voice cracked. Lan Wangji didn’t answer, his movements methodical as he worked the cloth lower, over the swell of Wei Wuxian’s chest, between his thighs. The water darkened faintly as traces of the donkey’s spend swirled away, and Wei Wuxian’s face burned hotter than the bath. "You, you wanted to see if I’d—"

Lan Wangji's lips brushed Wei Wuxian's ear, his breath hot against the shell. "If it brought you happiness," he murmured, voice like honeyed iron. The washcloth paused over Wei Wuxian's inner thigh, pressing just shy of painful against the deepest bite. Wei Wuxian shuddered, his fingers scrabbling at the tub's edge as Lan Wangji's free hand slid up his spine—possessive, grounding.

Lan Wangji’s fingers lingered at the base of Wei Wuxian’s spine, pressing just hard enough to make him arch into the touch. The washcloth had long since been discarded, forgotten in the water as Lan Wangji’s hands moved over Wei Wuxian’s body with a possessiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. His thumbs traced the curve of Wei Wuxian’s hips, the dip of his waist, the faint tremor in his thighs—every mark, every bruise cataloged and claimed anew.

The bathwater sloshed as Wei Wuxian twisted to face Lan Wangji properly, his knees knocking against the tub’s edge. "Lan Zhan," he breathed, catching his husband’s wrist before it could retreat. "You really….are you okay with—" His thumb pressed into Lan Wangji’s pulse point, feeling the rabbit-quick flutter beneath skin.

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, pressing his pulse point against Wei Wuxian’s own. "Mn," he said—soft, certain—before dipping his head to lick a stripe up Wei Wuxian’s throat, erasing the last traces of Little Apple’s saliva with deliberate precision. Wei Wuxian gasped, his free hand tangling in Lan Wangji’s hair as his husband’s teeth scraped over his Adam’s apple. "Lan Zhan—!"

The protest dissolved into a moan when Lan Wangji’s knee nudged between his thighs, pressing up against his oversensitive cock. Steam curled between them, thick with herbs and something sharper—hunger, barely leashed. Lan Wangji’s lips moved to Wei Wuxian’s ear. "You are mine," he murmured, the words a brand. "But your pleasure is mine to give. In all forms."

Wei Wuxian shuddered, his hips jerking helplessly. "You—" He broke off with a gasp as Lan Wangji’s fingers slid down his spine, tracing the stretch marks Little Apple’s teeth had left. "You’re terrifying."

Lan Wangji’s hum vibrated against his skin. He pulled back just enough to meet Wei Wuxian’s gaze, golden eyes dark with intent. "Clean first," he ordered, reaching for the soap.

The soap slipped from Wei Wuxian’s fingers as Lan Wangji’s hands slid lower, pressing into the sore muscles of his thighs with deliberate pressure. "Ah—Lan Zhan, that…..nngh….hurts," Wei Wuxian whined, though his hips lifted eagerly into the touch. Lan Wangji’s thumbs dug into the tender flesh just above his knees, working out the lingering stiffness with merciless precision. The bathwater sloshed as Wei Wuxian squirmed, his toes curling against the tub’s edge.

Lan Wangji’s expression remained serene, but his fingers lingered too long on the bruises Little Apple had left, circling them, pressing just shy of pain, as if memorizing their shape. Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched. "You’re marking them," he realized aloud, his voice hoarse. "Like—like territory."

A beat of silence. Then Lan Wangji’s palm flattened over the deepest bite on Wei Wuxian’s hip, his spiritual energy pulsing warm beneath Wei Wuxian’s skin. The ache melted instantly, replaced by a tingling heat that made Wei Wuxian gasp. "Unnecessary," Lan Wangji murmured, though his fingers tightened possessively. "You are already mine."

Wei Wuxian’s laugh dissolved into a moan as Lan Wangji’s other hand slid between his thighs, cupping him with devastating gentleness. The water rippled around them, echoing the tremors running through Wei Wuxian’s body. "Lan Zhan," he breathed, his fingers clutching at his husband’s shoulders. "You’re you’re not jealous, are you?"

Lan Wangji’s fingers stilled against Wei Wuxian’s thigh. The water rippled faintly between them, the silence stretching taut as a bowstring. Then, with deliberate slowness, Lan Wangji leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of Wei Wuxian’s ear. "Should I be?"

Wei Wuxian shivered—not from the bath’s heat, but from the dangerous silk of that tone. He knew that voice. Knew what it meant when Lan Wangji’s words dripped like honey over a blade. "Ah Lan Zhan—" His protest dissolved into a gasp as Lan Wangji’s teeth closed lightly over his earlobe.

The soap slipped from Wei Wuxian’s grip entirely when Lan Wangji’s hands slid lower, cupping his ass with a possessiveness that bordered on brutal. Water sloshed over the tub’s edge as Wei Wuxian arched into the touch, his cock twitching against Lan Wangji’s stomach.

Lan Wangji's fingers traced the stretch of Wei Wuxian’s rim, still loose and tender, and Wei Wuxian whimpered at the intrusion, not from pain, but from the dizzying contrast of Lan Wangji’s clinical precision against the memory of the donkey’s rough claiming. "Lan Zhan," he gasped, thighs trembling. "You—you wanted me to—"

Wei Wuxian's question hung between them, suspended in the humid air like steam from the bath. Lan Wangji's fingers stilled against his hip, the only sign of tension in his otherwise immaculate posture. Then, with deliberate slowness, Lan Wangji lifted his hand from the water, dripping herbal-scented droplets onto Wei Wuxian's collarbone.

"Wanted," Lan Wangji repeated, his voice lower than the rumble of distant thunder. His thumb brushed the hollow of Wei Wuxian's throat. "No." The word landed with finality.

Wei Wuxian's breath caught. Lan Wangji's palm flattened over his sternum, pressing just shy of painful—not restraining, but reminding. The bathwater rippled as Wei Wuxian shifted, his knees bumping against Lan Wangji's thighs.

"If it made Wei Ying happy..." Lan Wangji's other hand traced the curve of Wei Wuxian's waist, fingers skating over the fading marks. "If Wei Ying wanted..." His touch dipped lower, following the trail of a water droplet down Wei Wuxian's abdomen. "As long as Wei Ying still chooses me after...."

The bathwater sloshed violently as Wei Wuxian surged forward, his wet hands framing Lan Wangji’s face. “You—” His voice broke, fingers trembling against his husband’s jaw.

“Lan Zhan, you idiot.” The words came out raw, choked with something too vast to name. He crushed their mouths together before Lan Wangji could react, biting at his lower lip with desperate fervor.

Lan Wangji’s hands gripped Wei Wuxian’s waist—steadying, claiming—as the kiss deepened. Steam curled around them, thick with the scent of crushed herbs and salt-skin. When Wei Wuxian finally pulled back, his breath came in ragged bursts. “I will always choose you,” he whispered against Lan Wangji’s lips. “Even if you fill the Cloud Recesses with a thousand donkeys.”

Lan Wangji’s exhale was nearly a laugh. His fingers traced the curve of Wei Wuxian’s spine, lingering where the water lapped at the dip of his lower back. “One is sufficient,” he murmured, and the dry amusement in his tone made Wei Wuxian’s chest ache.

Wei Wuxian huffed, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re ridiculous.” His thumbs brushed the high arch of Lan Wangji’s cheekbones. “You'll always come first.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened infinitesimally around Wei Wuxian’s waist—a silent, possessive counterpoint to Wei Wuxian’s teasing. The bathwater rippled between them, carrying the scent of crushed herbs and something warmer, muskier beneath. Wei Wuxian grinned, nipping at Lan Wangji’s lower lip before pulling back just enough to watch his husband’s eyelashes flutter.

“See? No competition,” he murmured, trailing his fingers down Lan Wangji’s throat to where his robes clung damply to his collarbones. “Not when you look at me like that.”

A droplet of water slid from Lan Wangji’s hairline down the sharp line of his jaw. Wei Wuxian chased it with his tongue, tasting the herbal steam and the faint salt of Lan Wangji’s skin. His husband’s breath hitched, a nearly imperceptible sound, but Wei Wuxian felt it vibrate against his lips. Triumph sparked low in his belly. He’d spent years learning to read Lan Wangji’s silences, and this one—tense with restrained want—was his favorite.

The soap slipped forgotten to the bottom of the tub as Wei Wuxian slid his hands under Lan Wangji’s robes, pushing the soaked fabric off his shoulders with practiced ease. Lan Wangji allowed it, his gaze darkening as Wei Wuxian’s fingers traced the familiar scars along his shoulders—old wounds Wei Wuxian knew by touch better than sight.

“You’re overdressed,” Wei Wuxian complained, flicking open the ties of Lan Wangji’s inner robe with one-handed dexterity. “Join me.”

Lan Wangji’s hands closed around Wei Wuxian’s wrists, halting his progress. “Wei Ying is injured,” he said, his thumb brushing over the faint teeth marks on Wei Wuxian’s inner wrist.

Lan Wangji's grip tightened—not painful, but deliberate—as he pressed Wei Wuxian's wrist against the edge of the tub. "You will rest," he said, and it wasn't a suggestion.

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to protest, but Lan Wangji's free hand slid up his thigh, fingers skirting dangerously close to where he was still tender. The words died in his throat.

The bathwater sloshed as Wei Wuxian squirmed, his cock twitching against Lan Wangji's forearm. "Lan Zhan," he whined, tilting his head back against the tub's edge.

"You can't just—ahhh—tease me after…" His complaint dissolved into a gasp as Lan Wangji's thumb circled his nipple, rough and sudden.

Lan Wangji's expression didn't change, but his fingers lingered—testing, possessive—before trailing down Wei Wuxian's sternum. "You are marked," he observed, his voice low. His palm flattened over the bite on Wei Wuxian's hip, spiritual energy pulsing warm beneath the skin. The ache melted instantly, replaced by a tingling heat that made Wei Wuxian's breath catch.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian gasped, arching into his touch. His fingers scrabbled at the tub's edge as Lan Wangji's other hand slid lower, tracing the stretch of his rim with clinical precision. The contrast—Lan Wangji's cool detachment against the memory of Little Apple's rough claiming—sent sparks up Wei Wuxian's spine.

The water rippled violently as Wei Wuxian twisted, knocking the soap onto the floor with a wet slap. "You—" His protest dissolved into a moan when Lan Wangji's fingers pressed inside, stretching him with deliberate slowness. "You're enjoying this," he accused, thighs trembling.

Lan Wangji didn't deny it. His free hand cupped Wei Wuxian's jaw, tilting his face up. "You are mine," he murmured, thumb brushing Wei Wuxian's lower lip. The words weren't a question.

Wei Wuxian's laugh was breathless, interrupted by Lan Wangji's fingers curling just right inside him. "Lan Zhan! Ahhh—you can't just—" His hips jerked forward as Lan Wangji added a third finger, the stretch bordering on too much after the morning's activities. The water sloshed over the tub's edge, pooling on the floorboards.

"Ridiculous," Wei Wuxian gasped, fisting his hands in Lan Wangji's half-open robes. "You're ridiculous.”

Lan Wangji silenced him with a kiss, his tongue sliding against Wei Wuxian's with the same relentless precision as his fingers. Wei Wuxian melted into it, his thighs falling open wider, heels hooking over the tub's edge for leverage. The position left him exposed—vulnerable—and Lan Wangji took full advantage, scissoring his fingers with devastating patience.

When Lan Wangji finally withdrew, Wei Wuxian whined at the loss, only to choke on his next breath as Lan Wangji lifted him effortlessly from the water. The sudden shift left him dripping and shivering, his skin pebbling in the cooler air. Lan Wangji's robes soaked through instantly where Wei Wuxian's wet body pressed against him, but he didn't seem to care, striding toward their bed with single-minded focus.

"Wait, the floor!" Wei Wuxian protested halfheartedly as water trailed behind them. Lan Wangji ignored him, depositing him onto the rumpled sheets with uncharacteristic roughness. Wei Wuxian barely had time to register the scent of Little Apple still lingering in the fabric before Lan Wangji's hands were on him again, turning him onto his stomach with firm pressure between his shoulder blades.

Wei Wuxian yelped as Lan Wangji flipped him onto his stomach, his face pressing into the sheets still damp with sweat and the musky scent of Little Apple's claim. Before he could protest, Lan Wangji's weight settled over him, not crushing, but undeniable, his knees bracketing Wei Wuxian's thighs.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian's voice muffled into the pillow as Lan Wangji's hands smoothed up his spine, pausing to trace each bite mark with deliberate focus. His breath hitched when Lan Wangji's thumbs pressed into the sore spots just above his hips, the ache blooming into warmth as spiritual energy seeped beneath his skin.

"You're being thorough," Wei Wuxian teased, twisting to glance over his shoulder. Lan Wangji's expression was unreadable, but his fingers trembled minutely against Wei Wuxian's waist, the only betrayal of the storm beneath that porcelain calm.

The kiss landed between Wei Wuxian's shoulder blades, slow, wet, and claiming, his back arching instinctively. Lan Wangji's teeth followed, scraping lightly over the knobs of his spine before biting down on the same spot Little Apple had marked hours earlier. Wei Wuxian gasped, fingers clawing at the sheets as Lan Wangji laved the fresh bruise with his tongue, erasing the donkey's scent with his own.

The bed creaked under Lan Wangji’s shifting weight as he moved lower, his lips tracing the curve of Wei Wuxian’s spine with deliberate slowness. Wei Wuxian shivered, his skin still damp from the bath, the cool air raising goosebumps wherever Lan Wangji’s breath ghosted over him.

“You’re,” Wei Wuxian’s voice hitched as Lan Wangji’s teeth closed over the swell of his ass, biting just hard enough to sting. “…. ah…you’re rewriting all of them, aren’t you?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer. His hands slid beneath Wei Wuxian’s hips, lifting him effortlessly until Wei Wuxian’s knees slid apart on the sheets, his body bared and trembling. The first lick was slow, a broad, wet stripe that made Wei Wuxian jerk, before Lan Wangji’s tongue pressed inside with relentless precision. Wei Wuxian moaned, his forehead dropping against the mattress, fingers twisting in the sheets as Lan Wangji worked him open again, his tongue hot and slick and everywhere.

The scrape of teeth against his rim sent a jolt through Wei Wuxian’s body, his cock twitching against his stomach. “Lan Zhan—” His voice cracked. “You…you can’t just…fuck! More!”

The bed creaked under Lan Wangji’s shifting weight as he knelt between Wei Wuxian’s thighs, his palms smoothing over the backs of Wei Wuxian’s knees to press them wider. Wei Wuxian shuddered, his hips canting helplessly into the mattress as Lan Wangji’s tongue dragged another slow, wet stripe over his rim.

"You're worse than he was," Wei Wuxian gasped into the sheets, his fingers twisting in the fabric. Lan Wangji’s only response was to bite down, not hard, but enough to make Wei Wuxian yelp, before soothing the spot with his tongue. The contrast was maddening.

“Mmmm….feels good.”

A slick sound filled the room as Lan Wangji worked him open with deliberate strokes, his fingers joining where his tongue had been moments before. Wei Wuxian’s thighs trembled, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Lan Zhan," he whined, pushing back against the intrusion. "Enough—please—"

Lan Wangji withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving Wei Wuxian clenching around nothing. Before he could protest, Lan Wangji flipped him onto his back with effortless strength, pinning his wrists above his head. Wei Wuxian blinked up at him, dazed, his chest heaving. Lan Wangji’s gaze was molten, his usually immaculate hair mussed from Wei Wuxian’s earlier grasping.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid words and the scent of crushed herbs still clinging to their skin. Wei Wuxian's pulse hammered against Lan Wangji's grip where his fingers encircled his wrists—not restraining but claiming. He could feel the callouses on Lan Wangji's palms, the faint tremor running through them like a plucked guqin string.

"You're shaking," Wei Wuxian murmured, stretching up to brush his nose against Lan Wangji's jaw. His husband didn't respond, but the muscle in his cheek jumped when Wei Wuxian's teeth grazed his earlobe. "Lan Zhan," he breathed, grinning as Lan Wangji's grip tightened reflexively. "Did I scare you?"

Lan Wangji's exhale was barely audible. His free hand traced down Wei Wuxian's ribs, slow and deliberate, before settling possessively over the deepest bite mark on his hip. "No," he said at last, voice rougher than usual. His thumb circled the bruise. "But Wei Ying will not ride Little Apple for a week."

Wei Wuxian burst into laughter, the sound bright and startled in the quiet room. "Ah, Lan Zhan! Are you jealous of a donkey?" He twisted playfully in Lan Wangji's grip, but his husband didn't relent, pinning him effortlessly. The heat of Lan Wangji's body pressed along his front was intoxicating, solid and familiar and his.

Lan Wangji's silence stretched taut between them, his grip unyielding as Wei Wuxian squirmed beneath him. The flush creeping up Lan Wangji's neck betrayed him far more than words ever could. Wei Wuxian's grin widened, his teeth catching the light as he arched into the hold. "You are," he crowed, delighted. "Lan Zhan, you—"

The protest died in his throat as Lan Wangji shifted suddenly, pressing him deeper into the mattress with his full weight. Wei Wuxian gasped at the contact—the heat of Lan Wangji’s cock against his thigh, the damp silk of his robes clinging where Wei Wuxian’s wet skin had soaked through.

"One week," Lan Wangji repeated, low and firm. His free hand trailed down Wei Wuxian’s chest, fingers skating over each mark left by Little Apple’s teeth with meticulous attention. Wei Wuxian shivered, his cock twitching against Lan Wangji’s thigh.

"You’re impossible," Wei Wuxian breathed, bucking up into the touch. Lan Wangji caught his hip with bruising force, stilling him. The restraint sent a thrill up Wei Wuxian’s spine, his husband’s control fraying at the edges, the way his breath hitched when Wei Wuxian licked his lips.

The bed creaked dangerously as Lan Wangji leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Wei Wuxian’s ear. “You will say it,” he murmured, soft and deadly, his teeth scraping the tender skin beneath. Wei Wuxian shuddered, his pulse fluttering wildly where Lan Wangji still gripped his wrists.

“Say what?” Wei Wuxian teased, though his breath hitched when Lan Wangji’s knee nudged his thighs wider. The drag of silk robes against his oversensitive cock drew a broken sound from his throat. “Lan Zhan, you—”

Lan Wangji’s teeth sank into his shoulder, not playfully, but with deliberate force. Wei Wuxian arched off the bed with a gasp. The pain bloomed into heat instantly, Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy searing through the mark like a brand. Wei Wuxian’s vision whited out for a breathless second before Lan Wangji laved the fresh bruise with his tongue, his free hand sliding down to wrap around Wei Wuxian’s cock.

“Mine,” Lan Wangji growled against his skin, the word vibrating through Wei Wuxian’s bones. His grip tightened, not stroking and holding, as his thumb pressed against the leaking slit. Wei Wuxian whimpered, his hips jerking helplessly.

Wei Wuxian’s laugh dissolved into a ragged moan as Lan Wangji’s palm tightened around him, the pressure just shy of cruel. His hips jerked uselessly against the grip, Lan Wangji’s knee pinned his thighs apart with immovable strength—and the frustration coiled hot in his belly. “Lan Zhan,” he gasped, twisting his wrists against Lan Wangji’s hold. The silk ties binding them held firm, the fabric damp with bathwater and sweat. “You can’t just—ah—tie me up and tease—”

Lan Wangji’s teeth grazed his pulse point, a silent warning. His thumb circled Wei Wuxian’s cockhead with infuriating precision, smearing precum down his shaft. “Say it,” he murmured against Wei Wuxian’s throat, the words a velvet threat.

The bed creaked as Wei Wuxian arched, his shoulders straining against the ties. Lan Wangji’s free hand slid down his ribs—possessive, deliberate—lingering over the deepest bite mark before dipping between his thighs. Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched as two fingers pressed inside without warning, the stretch bordering on too much after the morning’s activities. “Fuck—!”

Lan Wangji didn’t relent. His fingers crooked, rubbing against that spot inside Wei Wuxian with merciless accuracy while his thumb kept circling his cockhead. The dual sensation sent sparks up Wei Wuxian’s spine, his toes curling against the sheets. “Lan Zhan!”

Wei Wuxian’s voice broke off into a shattered moan as Lan Wangji’s fingers twisted inside him, the stretch bordering on pain—just shy of it—before withdrawing almost completely. The sudden emptiness made him whimper, his hips chasing the sensation uselessly against Lan Wangji’s restraining knee. “Please—”

Lan Wangji’s lips curled against his throat, the barest hint of a smirk. “Begging already?” His voice was silk over steel, the fingers not buried inside Wei Wuxian tracing idle circles on his inner thigh. “Wei Ying is impatient.”

The words punched a laugh from Wei Wuxian’s chest, though it dissolved into a gasp when Lan Wangji’s fingers thrust back in, deeper this time. His back arched off the bed, the silk ties cutting into his wrists as he strained against them. “You—” He panted, thighs trembling. “You’re enjoying this too much—”

Lan Wangji’s hum vibrated against his collarbone where his mouth lingered, teeth scraping the jut of bone. His fingers curled, once, and Wei Wuxian saw stars. “Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed, unrepentant, as if commenting on the weather.

The bed groaned under Wei Wuxian’s thrashing as Lan Wangji’s fingers twisted inside him again, that maddening spot stroked with clinical precision. Wei Wuxian’s wrists strained against the silk ties, the fabric damp with sweat where it bit into his skin. “Lan Zhan,” he gasped, his voice cracking on the syllable. “If you don’t—ah—fuck me properly right now, I swear I’ll—”

Lan Wangji’s teeth closed over his nipple hard, and Wei Wuxian’s threat dissolved into a punched-out moan. The sudden sting bloomed into heat as Lan Wangji’s tongue soothed the bite, his fingers never ceasing their ruthless rhythm. Wei Wuxian’s cock twitched against his stomach, leaking untouched.

“Cruel,” Wei Wuxian choked out, bucking his hips uselessly. Lan Wangji’s free hand splayed across his abdomen, pinning him down with effortless strength. The contrast, Lan Wangji’s immaculate control against Wei Wuxian’s unraveling, sent another jolt of heat through him.

Then, without warning, Lan Wangji withdrew his fingers entirely. Wei Wuxian made a wounded noise, his body clenching around nothing. Before he could protest, Lan Wangji’s weight shifted, the bed dipping as he knelt between Wei Wuxian’s thighs. The slick, hot press of his cock against Wei Wuxian’s entrance stole his breath.

The first thrust punched the air from Wei Wuxian's lungs. Lan Wangji didn't ease in. There was no teasing push, no gradual stretch, just one smooth, devastating slide that buried him to the hilt in a single motion. Wei Wuxian's back arched off the bed, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as the fullness bordered on pain, his body still loose but oversensitive from earlier.

Lan Wangji's hands clamped around his hips, fingers digging into the bruises Little Apple had left, and held him immobile. Wei Wuxian panted through the stretch, his toes curling against the rumpled sheets. "Lan Zhan," he gasped, "you—ah—you're not even—"

A slow, deliberate roll of Lan Wangji's hips cut him off mid-sentence. Wei Wuxian's breath stuttered—the movement wasn't rough, but the drag was exquisite, maddening in its precision. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Lan Wangji's waist, still sore from earlier, but the discomfort melted beneath the heat pooling low in his belly.

“Ahhh…ahhh…unnngghh…”

Lan Wangji's grip tightened, thumbs pressing into the bite marks on Wei Wuxian's hips as he pulled out just as slowly, until only the tip remained. Wei Wuxian whined, his hips chasing the retreating pressure, but Lan Wangji held him down effortlessly. The silence between them was thick and heavy with unspoken words and the sound of their ragged breathing.

Then Lan Wangji thrust back in, just as measured, just as controlled, and Wei Wuxian's fingers twisted in the sheets, his back arching off the bed. "Lan Zhan!" His voice cracked, the sensation overwhelming after the teasing. Lan Wangji's rhythm was relentless, deep and slow strokes that punched the air from Wei Wuxian's lungs each time.

“Ah…ah…ah….please!”

The bed creaked under the steady pace, the sound rhythmic against the sharp gasps Wei Wuxian couldn't stifle. Lan Wangji's expression was unreadable, his golden eyes dark with something possessive, something primal. His fingers traced the bruises on Wei Wuxian's hips, his touch featherlight compared to the punishing thrusts.

Lan Wangji's hips snapped forward again—too deep, too perfect—and Wei Wuxian's vision whited out at the edges, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sweat-slick sheets. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but take it as Lan Wangji fucked into him with that same devastating precision, each thrust carving out space inside him like he was being remade.

"Look at me," Lan Wangji commanded, his voice rough with restraint. Wei Wuxian's lashes fluttered open, when had he closed them? The sight punched the air from his lungs. Lan Wangji's hair clung to his temples in damp strands, his lips parted around each controlled exhale. The gold of his eyes had darkened to molten honey, fixed unwaveringly on Wei Wuxian's face as if memorizing every twitch of his expression.

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to tease, to beg, he wasn't sure—but Lan Wangji chose that moment to shift his angle, driving into him with a sharp roll of his hips that brushed against that spot inside him with unerring accuracy. The words dissolved into a broken cry, his back arching off the bed. Lan Wangji's hands slid up his torso, thumbs brushing his nipples in passing before settling over his collarbones, not restraining, just claiming. The contrast of those gentle palms against the brutal pace of his thrusts sent sparks skittering down Wei Wuxian's spine.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian gasped, his voice wrecked. "I can't—ah—I won't last!" His cock twitched against his stomach, leaking untouched. Lan Wangji's gaze flicked down, lingering for a heartbeat before meeting Wei Wuxian's eyes again. He didn't speed up, didn't slow down, just maintained that same relentless rhythm, each thrust punctuated by the wet slap of skin against skin.

The bedframe groaned under the force of Lan Wangji’s next thrust, the wood protesting as Wei Wuxian’s shoulders slid up the headboard. Lan Wangji caught him by the hips, dragging him back down with a possessive grip that left fingerprints in the wake of Little Apple’s fading bruises. Wei Wuxian’s laugh broke into a gasp as Lan Wangji’s thumbs dug into the marks, his cock twitching against his stomach from the dual sensation of pain-pleasure.

“Still—ah—still proving a point?” Wei Wuxian managed, his voice hoarse. Lan Wangji’s only answer was to lean forward, bracing one hand beside Wei Wuxian’s head, their faces inches apart. The shift in angle made Wei Wuxian’s vision blur, deeper, impossibly deeper, and his fingers scrabbled at Lan Wangji’s sweat-slick shoulders. “Fuck! I can’t…!”

Lan Wangji’s breath hitched, a nearly imperceptible sound, but Wei Wuxian felt it ghost across his lips. Triumphant, he arched up, biting at Lan Wangji’s lower lip. “You like it,” he murmured, rocking his hips to meet the next thrust. “Knowing he couldn’t—” The rest dissolved into a moan as Lan Wangji’s hand slid between them, wrapping around Wei Wuxian’s cock with deliberate pressure.

The stroke was slow—maddening—his thumb swiping over the head with each upward twist. Wei Wuxian’s thighs trembled, his heels digging into the small of Lan Wangji’s back. “Lan Zhan,” he choked out, “I’m—fuck—”

Wei Wuxian's climax tore through him like a storm surge, violent and inevitable, his back arching off the bed as Lan Wangji's name spilled from his lips in a broken litany. Lan Wangji didn't relent, his hand working Wei Wuxian through the aftershocks with ruthless precision even as his hips maintained that same devastating rhythm.

"Too much," Wei Wuxian gasped, oversensitive and trembling, but Lan Wangji merely tightened his grip, thumb pressing against the slit of Wei Wuxian's spent cock until he whimpered. Only then did Lan Wangji finally release him, his palm sliding up to splay possessively over Wei Wuxian's heaving stomach.

The shift in angle as Lan Wangji leaned forward made Wei Wuxian's breath catch, every inch of him felt raw, remade, Lan Wangji's cock dragging against oversensitive nerves with each measured thrust. His legs, still hooked over Lan Wangji's hips, trembled with exhaustion, but he tightened them instinctively, heels pressing into the small of Lan Wangji's back.

"Stay," Wei Wuxian murmured, his voice rough. His fingers traced the damp hair clinging to Lan Wangji's temples, the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath the skin. "Stay like this."

Lan Wangji froze, a perfect, impossible stillness, before exhaling sharply against Wei Wuxian’s lips. His hips stuttered, the rhythm breaking for the first time since they’d begun. Wei Wuxian grinned, triumphant even as his own spent body trembled beneath the weight of Lan Wangji’s restraint.

The bedframe groaned in protest as Lan Wangji shifted, his hands sliding beneath Wei Wuxian’s thighs to hike them higher, pressing him nearly double. Wei Wuxian gasped at the sudden change, the angle ruthless, the stretch bordering on too much, but Lan Wangji’s grip was unyielding. His next thrust was sharp enough to make Wei Wuxian’s vision blur, his oversensitive body clenching around the intrusion instinctively.

“Lan…Zhan…!” Wei Wuxian’s voice cracked, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the sweat-slick sheets. Lan Wangji’s pace turned punishing, no longer controlled, but frantic, his breath coming in ragged bursts against Wei Wuxian’s throat. The shift from calculated dominance to desperate need punched the air from Wei Wuxian’s lungs.

Lan Wangji’s teeth sank into the junction of Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, the pain-white heat of it reverberating through his bones. Wei Wuxian arched beneath him, his cry muffled against Lan Wangji’s sweat-damp hair as his husband came with a stifled groan, his hips jerking erratically. The heat flooding him drew another ragged sound from Wei Wuxian’s throat, his body trembling with the aftershocks of sensation.

Lan Wangji's breath was warm against Wei Wuxian's throat, his exhales slowing from ragged bursts to something measured, controlled again. Wei Wuxian could feel the rapid flutter of his husband's pulse where their skin still touched, the telltale sign of Lan Wangji's unraveling tucked neatly beneath the surface. He grinned, lazy and satisfied, fingers carding through the damp strands of hair at Lan Wangji's nape.

"You," Wei Wuxian murmured, his voice hoarse, "are ridiculous." His thighs, still bracketing Lan Wangji's hips, trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Fucking me like some—ah—jealous husband—"

Lan Wangji's teeth grazed his collarbone in warning, but Wei Wuxian only laughed, the sound catching in his throat when Lan Wangji shifted to pull out. The loss drew a whine from him, instinctive and embarrassing, but Lan Wangji hushed him with a kiss, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against Wei Wuxian's with the same possessive certainty as before.

When they parted, Wei Wuxian's lips were swollen, his breath uneven. Lan Wangji's thumb traced the curve of his bottom lip, his gaze dark with something unreadable. "Rest," he murmured, a command, softened by the way his fingers lingered on Wei Wuxian's jaw.

The bed creaked as Lan Wangji rolled onto his side, gathering Wei Wuxian against him with the same effortless precision as he did everything, like rearranging scrolls in perfect order. Wei Wuxian went willingly, his body pliant despite the lingering tremors in his thighs, his back fitting against Lan Wangji’s chest as if carved for it. The scent of sandalwood and sweat enveloped him, familiar as breathing.

Lan Wangji’s arm draped over Wei Wuxian’s waist, fingers splayed possessively over the bruises Little Apple had left. Wei Wuxian smirked into the pillow, recognizing the silent reclamation. “Still marking your territory, Lan Zhan?” His voice was raspy, ruined.

A pause. Then Lan Wangji’s lips brushed the shell of his ear, the barest hint of teeth in the gesture. “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian shivered, grinning. The aftershocks of pleasure still hummed beneath his skin, a pleasant buzz that made his limbs heavy. He wriggled deeper into Lan Wangji’s hold, sighing when Lan Wangji’s hand slid lower, fingertips tracing the dip of his hipbone.

The afternoon light filtered through the rice-paper windows in hesitant streaks, painting Lan Wangji’s bare shoulder gold where it pressed against Wei Wuxian’s back. He stirred lazily, chasing the warmth of his husband’s body, only to hiss as the movement tugged at sore muscles. Lan Wangji’s arm tightened around his waist instantly, a silent question in the way his fingertips pressed into Wei Wuxian’s hipbone.

“M’fine,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, though his voice was still raw from last night’s and this morning's activities. He twisted just enough to catch Lan Wangji’s expression, the slight furrow between his brows, the way his lips parted on an unasked concern. “Just… well. You were thorough.”

Lan Wangji’s exhale ghosted warm against the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck. His hand slid lower, fingertips skimming the worst of the bruises with deliberate care. Spiritual energy tingled against Wei Wuxian’s skin, cool and soothing.

Outside, a familiar bray shattered the quiet. Wei Wuxian stiffened, then burst into laughter at the indignant sound of Little Apple’s hooves scraping against the courtyard stones. Lan Wangji went very still behind him.

The braying grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of hooves kicking against wooden beams. Wei Wuxian rolled onto his back, wincing as his sore muscles protested, and grinned up at Lan Wangji’s unreadable expression. “Someone’s jealous,” he singsonged, stretching deliberately until his spine popped. Lan Wangji’s gaze darkened at the display of bare skin, still marked from their earlier… negotiations.

Little Apple’s next protest shook the walls. Lan Wangji exhaled through his nose, the closest he ever came to a sigh, and sat up, his hair cascading over one shoulder in a silken waterfall. Wei Wuxian reached out, snagging a strand between his fingers. “Ignore him,” he murmured, tugging Lan Wangji back down.

Lan Wangji resisted, his spine rigid. Outside, a crash echoed, likely a upturned water bucket, followed by the outraged shouts of junior disciples. Wei Wuxian bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “He’ll break the courtyard at this rate,” he said, though his fingers trailed down Lan Wangji’s chest, tracing the fresh scratches he’d left there hours ago.

A muscle ticked in Lan Wangji’s jaw. Without a word, he disentangled himself from Wei Wuxian’s grasp and stood, his silhouette stark against the morning light. Wei Wuxian propped himself up on his elbows, watching shamelessly as Lan Wangji pulled on an inner robe, the fabric clinging to the sweat-damp lines of his back.

Wei Wuxian’s laughter caught in his throat as Lan Wangji strode toward the door, his movements unhurried but deliberate—like a predator assessing prey. The morning light painted his shoulders in sharp relief, the thin robe doing nothing to hide the tension coiled in his frame. "Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian called, rolling onto his stomach with a wince. "Don’t be cruel, he’s just hungry!"

Lan Wangji paused at the threshold, his fingers curling around the doorframe. The distant sound of splintering wood echoed from the courtyard. Wei Wuxian bit his lip to stifle another laugh, Little Apple’s tantrums were legendary, but seeing Lan Wangji’s spine stiffen at the noise was infinitely more entertaining.

A crash. A junior’s yelp. Lan Wangji exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped outside.

Wei Wuxian scrambled upright, ignoring the protest of his muscles, and limped to the window. He nudged the screen open just enough to peer into the courtyard, where Lan Wangji stood, immaculate in his disheveled robe, facing a dust-covered Little Apple. The donkey’s ears were pinned back, his tail lashing as he glared at Lan Wangji with unmistakable challenge.

The courtyard air smelled like trampled herbs and spilled tea, Little Apple's latest casualties. Wei Wuxian pressed his forehead against the window frame, biting his lip bloody to stifle laughter as Lan Wangji and the donkey sized each other up in the morning light. Neither moved. The tension could've sharpened knives.

Then Little Apple stamped his hoof, kicking up dust deliberately near Lan Wangji's pristine white hem. Wei Wuxian's breath hitched. *Oh, you stupid, glorious animal—*

Lan Wangji's fingers twitched. Not toward Bichen—no, his hand flexed like he was imagining throttling something. Little Apple bared his teeth in response, nostrils flaring as he sidestepped closer to the broken remains of a decorative screen. His tail swished, smug.

A junior disciple peeked around the courtyard wall, wide-eyed. "H-Hanguang-jun, should we—"

The disciple’s voice died in his throat as Lan Wangji lifted a single hand, a gesture so effortlessly commanding that the boy scurried backward like a startled rabbit. Little Apple, however, remained undeterred. He tossed his head with a defiant snort, his ears flicking toward Wei Wuxian’s window as if sensing his audience.

Wei Wuxian ducked lower behind the screen, grinning. *Oh, this is going to be glorious.*

Lan Wangji took one measured step forward. Little Apple mirrored him, sidestepping with deliberate insolence until his flank nearly brushed the shattered remains of a teacup. The donkey’s tail lashed once, twice, then, with a suddenness that made even Wei Wuxian blink, he lunged.

Not at Lan Wangji. No, Little Apple’s teeth closed around the sleeve of a junior’s robe, yanking the poor boy forward with a startled yelp. The disciple flailed, sandals skidding across the courtyard stones as Little Apple dragged him insistently toward Lan Wangji, as if presenting a sacrifice.

The disciple’s sandals scraped against the courtyard stones as Little Apple hauled him forward, the donkey’s ears twitching with unmistakable smugness. Lan Wangji’s expression remained impassive, but Wei Wuxian, still crouched at the window, saw the minute tightening of his husband’s jaw.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Lan Wangji reached into his sleeve.

Little Apple’s ears shot upright. The disciple, still dangling from his teeth, froze mid-squeak.

A single apple, glossy and perfect, emerged from Lan Wangji’s robes.

Little Apple’s ears twitched like compass needles finding north, his nostrils flaring at the scent of the apple. The disciple, still clamped in his teeth, flinched as the donkey’s grip loosened with distracted interest. Lan Wangji held the fruit between two fingers, his gaze never leaving Little Apple’s face. The silence stretched. Somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, a bird trilled.

Then, with a wet plop, the junior disciple tumbled onto the stones as Little Apple abandoned him entirely, trotting forward with sudden, alarming dignity. His tail ceased its irritated swishing. His ears perked up, almost politely. Wei Wuxian muffled a snort against his palm. *Oh, you traitorous glutton.*

Lan Wangji extended the apple without a word. Little Apple hesitated, his beady eyes flicking between the fruit and Lan Wangji’s face, as if suspecting a trap. Then, with a huff that might’ve been resignation, he leaned in and snatched it delicately from Lan Wangji’s fingers.

The crunch echoed through the courtyard.

The apple vanished in three crisp bites. Little Apple chewed with exaggerated relish, his tail flicking in slow, satisfied arcs, until Lan Wangji produced another apple from his sleeve. The donkey froze mid-chew, his beady eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Lan Wangji rotated the fruit between his fingers, sunlight glinting off its waxy skin. His expression remained neutral, but Wei Wuxian, still hidden behind the window screen, recognized the subtle tilt of his husband’s chin. Negotiation stance.

Little Apple’s ears twitched backward, then forward. He took one cautious step closer, sniffing the air. Lan Wangji didn’t move. The courtyard held its breath.

Then, with a speed that belied his stocky build, Little Apple lunged again. Not for the apple. No, his teeth closed around Lan Wangji’s sleeve, yanking him forward with a force that nearly tore the fabric. The junior disciples gasped. Wei Wuxian choked on a laugh.

Lan Wangji’s sleeve tore with a sound like ripping parchment. The donkey wrenched him forward with startling strength, their faces suddenly inches apart, Little Apple’s hot breath puffing against Lan Wangji’s impassive expression. Wei Wuxian’s laughter died in his throat. *Oh, you idiot donkey—*

Then Little Apple dropped the sleeve and headbutted Lan Wangji squarely in the chest.

The impact sent Lan Wangji stumbling back a step, unthinkable, impossible, and the courtyard erupted into chaos. Juniors shrieked. Someone dropped a tray of teacups. Wei Wuxian vaulted through the window before his brain caught up, his sore muscles screaming in protest as he landed in a heap of tangled robes and disbelief.

Little Apple’s ears flattened. He brayed triumphantly, prancing in a tight circle like a warhorse after a charge. Lan Wangji straightened slowly, his pristine robe now dust-streaked and torn at the shoulder. A single lock of hair had escaped his ribbon, curving against his cheekbone like a slash of ink.

Lan Wangji's fingers twitched, once, before settling into perfect stillness. The courtyard held its breath. Even Little Apple paused mid-prance, his ears swiveling forward at the unnatural quiet. Wei Wuxian scrambled upright, wincing as his thighs protested, and opened his mouth—

—only to snap it shut when Lan Wangji lifted a hand.

Not toward Bichen. Not in a silencing gesture. No, his fingers curled loosely, palm upturned, as if offering something invisible. Wei Wuxian's brows shot up. *Since when does Lan Zhan negotiate with livestock?*

Little Apple's hooves skidded against the courtyard stones as Lan Wangji hauled him upward by the mane, the donkey's front legs leaving the ground for one surreal, suspended moment. His ears flattened against his skull, eyes rolling white with panic, but Lan Wangji's grip was unrelenting, his fingers tangled deep in the coarse hair like roots gripping stone.

Wei Wuxian's breath caught. "Lan Zhan—!"

The donkey kicked out wildly, his hind legs scrambling for purchase, but Lan Wangji merely adjusted his stance, bracing as effortlessly as if he were weathering a mild breeze. Little Apple's nostrils flared, his breath coming in ragged bursts that fogged the morning air between them. For a heartbeat, nobody moved, not the petrified juniors clutching their overturned tea trays, not Wei Wuxian halfway across the courtyard with his robes still sliding off one shoulder, and certainly not Lan Wangji, whose expression had gone terrifyingly blank.

Then, with glacial slowness, Lan Wangji leaned in until his lips nearly brushed the donkey's twitching ear. "Mine," he murmured, the word so soft it might've been mistaken for the wind through bamboo.

Little Apple froze. His tail hung mid-swish. Even his ears stopped their frantic twitching, cocked forward at an angle that suggested he wasn't entirely sure he'd heard correctly. Wei Wuxian stifled a hysterical giggle behind his palm. *Oh, you absolute fool of a donkey—you've gone and done it now.*

Lan Wangji's grip tightened infinitesimally. Little Apple's eyes rolled sideways, whites showing, as if suddenly realizing the gravity of his miscalculation. The courtyard tiles creaked under Lan Wangji's shifting weight. Then, without breaking eye contact, Lan Wangji reached into his torn sleeve with his free hand and produced a third apple.

This one was different. Larger. Streaked with gold where the morning light caught its skin. Wei Wuxian's breath hitched. *The emperor's apples from Gusu's western orchards.*

Reserved for elders' tea ceremonies. Stolen once as a dare during their student days and paid for with Lan Qiren's whip across their palms.

Little Apple sniffed. His ears twitched like divining rods finding water. Lan Wangji held the apple just out of reach, rotating it slowly so the sunlight caught every curve. "Behave," he said, quieter than snowfall. "Or you will no longer see Wei Ying in the capacity that you would like."

Little Apple’s nostrils flared wide enough to swallow the apple whole. His tail stiffened mid-swish, ears flicking between Lan Wangji’s face and the forbidden fruit like a gambler weighing odds. The courtyard held its breath, even the sparrows perched on the eaves ceased their chatter.

Then, with a sound halfway between a bray and a whimper, Little Apple went limp in Lan Wangji’s grip, his front hooves drooping like a chastened child’s arms. His lips quivered toward the apple with theatrical meekness. Lan Wangji didn’t blink.

Wei Wuxian, still frozen mid-step with his robes slipping off one shoulder, bit his knuckle to stifle a howl of laughter. *This is the greatest day of my life.*

Lan Wangji released the donkey’s mane with deliberate slowness. Little Apple’s hooves hit the stones with a subdued clop, his ears now folded back in something resembling contrition. The gold-streaked apple remained suspended between them—a silent treaty.

The apple vanished into Little Apple’s mouth with a crunch so loud it echoed off the courtyard walls. Lan Wangji’s fingers remained outstretched for a beat longer than necessary—a silent reminder of who held the power here. Wei Wuxian, still clutching his slipping robes, finally let loose the laughter he’d been choking on, doubling over with tears in his eyes.

“Lan Zhan!” he wheezed, staggering forward. “You—you bribed him with imperial fruit?!” His knees buckled halfway to his husband, but Lan Wangji caught him effortlessly, one arm sliding around Wei Wuxian’s waist while the other deftly tugged his robes back into place. Wei Wuxian grinned up at him, breathless. “Next you’ll be offering him my robes as a peace offering.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze flicked downward, lingering on the bruises peeking from Wei Wuxian’s collar. “Unnecessary,” he said, low enough that only Wei Wuxian could hear. “He understands the terms.”

Little Apple, now placidly licking apple juice from his lips, snorted as if in agreement. The juniors, still frozen in various states of shock, slowly began to inch backward, until Lan Wangji’s sharp glance pinned them in place. “Clean this,” he ordered, gesturing to the shattered teacups and trampled herbs. The disciples scrambled to obey, their whispers frantic.

The crunch of Little Apple’s third apple echoed like a gavel strike in the sudden quiet of the courtyard. Wei Wuxian, still draped over Lan Wangji’s arm, watched with delighted fascination as the donkey’s ears drooped into something suspiciously resembling deference. “I can’t believe this,” Wei Wuxian whispered, pressing his forehead against Lan Wangji’s shoulder to stifle another laugh. “You’ve domesticated him.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on Wei Wuxian’s hip. “Mn.”

Little Apple sidled closer, his muzzle still glistening with apple juice, and nudged Lan Wangji’s elbow with an exaggerated gentleness that would’ve been comical on any other creature. Wei Wuxian snorted. “Oh, now you’re polite? Where was this decorum when you were kicking down my—”

A sharp pinch to his thigh silenced him. Lan Wangji’s expression remained serene as he produced a fourth apple, smaller this time, clearly rationing his bribes, and offered it palm-up. Little Apple’s lips quivered with barely restrained greed, but he didn’t lunge. Instead, he blinked up at Lan Wangji with what might’ve been interpreted as respect, if one squinted.

Wei Wuxian watched, utterly transfixed, as Little Apple took the fourth apple with a delicacy befitting a palace attendant accepting tea from the Emperor. The donkey’s lips barely brushed Lan Wangji’s palm, his ears twitching in a rhythm that almost looked like… reverence. Wei Wuxian’s grin widened until his cheeks ached. “Lan Zhan,” he breathed, leaning into his husband’s side, “I think you’ve just invented diplomacy for donkeys.”

Lan Wangji’s thumb traced idle circles over Wei Wuxian’s hipbone through the fabric of his robe, a silent counterpoint to the chaos they’d just survived. The junior disciples, still wide-eyed, scurried around them with brooms and dustpans, carefully avoiding the spot where Lan Wangji’s shadow fell across the courtyard stones.

Little Apple, now the picture of docility, lipped at Lan Wangji’s sleeve with none of his earlier violence. Wei Wuxian reached out, ruffling the donkey’s forelock with exaggerated fondness. “Traitor,” he whispered. Little Apple’s tail swished once, unrepentant, as he crunched the last of his spoils.

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened on Wei Wuxian’s waist, a silent demand for attention. Wei Wuxian turned, blinking up at him with exaggerated innocence. “Yes, Hanguang-jun? Did you need something, or were you just—”

Lan Wangji’s grip shifted upward, fingers sliding beneath Wei Wuxian’s chin to tilt his face toward the morning light. His thumb brushed the bite mark purpling just below Wei Wuxian’s jaw, the one that mirrored the crescent-shaped indents still visible on Lan Wangji’s lower lip. Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched.

The courtyard noise faded to a distant hum. Even Little Apple’s contented chewing seemed to pause when Lan Wangji leaned down, his exhale warm against Wei Wuxian’s parted lips. “Rest,” he murmured—the same single syllable he’d used hours ago against Wei Wuxian’s sweat-slicked spine but now layered with something softer at the edges.

Wei Wuxian grinned, hooking a finger through Lan Wangji’s belt. “What, no apple for me after all that?”

A rustle of silk as Lan Wangji reached into his torn sleeve, not for fruit, but for a small jade vial that hadn’t been there moments ago. Wei Wuxian recognized the stopper’s intricate cloud motif instantly: the Lan sect’s best healing salve, reserved for night-hunt injuries. His throat tightened.

Lan Wangji uncorked the vial with his teeth, the jade catching sunlight as he spat the stopper neatly into his palm. The scent of crushed magnolia and mountain herbs bloomed between them—heady and medicinal, undercut with something distinctly Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian’s pulse jumped when cool fingers tipped his chin higher, exposing the worst of Little Apple’s love bites along his throat.

A junior disciple dropped a teacup. The shatter scattered across the courtyard like misplaced laughter. Lan Wangji didn’t flinch, his attention fixed on Wei Wuxian’s throat as he worked the salve into skin with the same meticulous focus he reserved for guqin tuning. Little Apple, forgotten at their side, sniffed loudly at the vial before Lan Wangji flicked his sleeve in warning. The donkey huffed but retreated to nibble a trampled herb with pointed dignity.

Wei Wuxian leaned into the touch, his grin softening when Lan Wangji’s fingers lingered over the hollow of his collarbone, a silent question. “M’fine,” he murmured, catching Lan Wangji’s wrist before it could withdraw. He turned the palm upward, pressing a kiss to the salve-sticky center. “Just sore enough to be interesting.”

Lan Wangji's fingers twitched against Wei Wuxian's wrist, halfway between a reprimand and a caress, before he recorked the jade vial with a decisive click. The scent of magnolia clung to Wei Wuxian's skin like a second robe. Little Apple, now thoroughly engrossed in decimating what remained of the herb garden, flicked an ear in their direction but otherwise maintained his newfound diplomatic restraint.

Wei Wuxian hooked his chin over Lan Wangji's shoulder, watching as the juniors swept apple cores and shattered porcelain into nervous piles. "You realize," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of Lan Wangji's ear, "this means war. He'll expect imperial fruit every time you—mmph!"

Lan Wangji silenced him with two fingers pressed to his lips, golden eyes flicking toward where a cluster of juniors pretended not to eavesdrop. Wei Wuxian grinned around the obstruction, nipping playfully at the pads of Lan Wangji's fingers until they withdrew with a barely-there shiver.

A crash echoed from the far side of the courtyard—another teacup meeting its demise—and Lan Wangji's spine straightened infinitesimally. Wei Wuxian seized the momentary distraction to duck under his arm, slipping free with a dancer's grace despite his sore muscles. "Ah, Lan Zhan," he sighed dramatically, stretching until his joints popped, "all this excitement has made me hungry. Should we—"

Lan Wangji's hand shot out, catching Wei Wuxian's wrist mid-stretch with the precision of a hawk snatching a rabbit. The salve vial clattered to the stones between them as Wei Wuxian yelped, not in pain, but in delighted surprise when Lan Wangji yanked him backward into the solid wall of his chest. The scent of crushed magnolia and something darker, muskier, flooded Wei Wuxian's senses as Lan Wangji's breath heated the shell of his ear.

"Stay," he commanded—the single syllable vibrating through Wei Wuxian's spine like a plucked guqin string.

Little Apple chose that moment to bray directly into Lan Wangji's face, his apple-scented breath ruffling the loose strands of hair framing Lan Wangji's jade-carved features. Wei Wuxian burst into laughter, sagging against his husband's rigid form as the donkey lipped insistently at Lan Wangji's sleeve. "I think," Wei Wuxian gasped between giggles, "he's demanding seconds of you, Lan Zhan—"

The courtyard gate creaked open with ominous slowness. Every disciple froze mid-sweep. Even Little Apple's ears swiveled backward in alarm. Wei Wuxian felt the exact moment Lan Wangji's grip on his wrist tightened, not in warning, but in something perilously close to panic, as Lan Qiren's shadow fell across the trampled herbs.

Lan Qiren’s beard trembled with the force of his inhale. The shattered teacups at his feet might as well have been the fragments of his sanity. Wei Wuxian, still draped over Lan Wangji’s arm with his robes in scandalous disarray, watched the vein in the elder’s forehead pulse like a trapped rabbit.

Little Apple chose violence.

The donkey sidestepped between them with a crunch of an apple core underhoof, his tail flicking dismissively as he lipped at Lan Qiren’s sleeve. The elder recoiled as if bitten by a snake, his horrified gaze darting from the donkey’s juice-stained muzzle to Wei Wuxian’s bite-marked throat—then higher, to where Lan Wangji’s fingers still gripped Wei Wuxian’s wrist with possessive clarity.

Wei Wuxian grinned. "Shufu! How fortuitous—we were just discussing—"

Lan Qiren's jaw clenched so tightly Wei Wuxian heard his teeth crack. "Explain," he hissed, gesturing wildly at the wrecked courtyard—the trampled herbs, the shattered teacups, the apple cores glistening in the morning light like evidence of some obscene banquet.

Little Apple chose that moment to sneeze directly onto Lan Qiren's immaculate robes.

A strangled sound escaped Lan Qiren's throat. Wei Wuxian bit his knuckle hard enough to draw blood, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as Lan Wangji stepped forward, his sleeve still torn, his forehead ribbon slightly askew, and bowed with flawless precision. "Disciplinary matters," he intoned, straight-faced.

Lan Qiren's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Disciplinary—"

The apple core dropped from Little Apple’s mouth with a wet plop onto Lan Qiren’s pristine boot. Wei Wuxian’s laughter died in his throat as the elder’s face purpled like an overripe plum. Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist tightened, whether in warning or solidarity, Wei Wuxian couldn’t tell.

Lan Qiren inhaled through his nose, a sound like a teakettle nearing boil, before leveling a trembling finger at Little Apple. “That—that beast—”

“Is under my jurisdiction,” Lan Wangji interjected smoothly, stepping forward to shield Wei Wuxian from view with his broader frame. His torn sleeve fluttered in the breeze, revealing a glimpse of the bite marks Wei Wuxian had left along his forearm hours earlier. Lan Qiren’s gaze snagged on them, his lips parting in wordless horror.

Little Apple, sensing weakness, sidled closer and deposited a glob of apple-scented drool onto Lan Qiren’s other boot.

Lan Qiren's teacup hit the courtyard tiles with a sound like shattering ice. Silence pooled around them, thick enough to choke on. Wei Wuxian watched, mesmerized, as a single leaf of trampled mint stuck to the elder's trembling boot sole.

Little Apple blinked his long lashes, once, twice, before deliberately placing his front hoof directly onto Lan Qiren's fallen forehead ribbon.

The vein in Lan Qiren's temple pulsed visibly. "Wangji," he ground out, each syllable sharper than Bichen's edge, "you will remove this disruption from—"

Wei Wuxian's stomach chose that moment to growl with the ferocity of a starved spirit. The sound ripped through the tension like a poorly aimed talisman. Lan Wangji's fingers twitched against Wei Wuxian's wrist, half-suppressed amusement, half-unvoiced concern.

Lan Qiren's gaze snapped to Wei Wuxian's midsection as if the noise had personally offended him. Little Apple seized the distraction to steal the forgotten jade salve vial from the ground, crunching it between his molars with a sound that made several disciples whimper. The scent of magnolia exploded into the air like a censer tipped in a temple.

Lan Wangji moved first, graceful as always, plucking the broken vial remnants from the donkey's mouth with two fingers before Little Apple could swallow jade shards. He deposited the pieces into a petrified junior's trembling hands without breaking eye contact with his uncle. "Apologies," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "The donkey requires further training."

Wei Wuxian bit his lip to stop himself from pointing out that the only thing Little Apple required was an apple-based bribe every three steps. Lan Qiren's nostrils flared as he took in the courtyard, his nephew's torn robes, Wei Wuxian's state of undress, the donkey now nosing hopefully at Lan Wangji's sash. "This is," he began, then visibly reconsidered his phrasing, "unacceptable."

Wei Wuxian straightened with a wince, discreetly adjusting his robes over the worst of the bruises. "Shufu," he began, sweet as poisoned honey, "if you'd only let me explain—"

Lan Qiren's fingers curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked. "Explain?" he echoed, voice climbing several octaves. "Explain what, exactly? The destruction of the eastern herb garden? The desecration of ancestral teacups? Or perhaps—" His gaze landed on the bite marks peeking above Wei Wuxian's collar, "—the reason my nephews woke the entire compound with their—"

Little Apple chose that moment to bray directly into Lan Qiren's face, his apple-scented breath ruffling the elder's mustache. Wei Wuxian clapped both hands over his mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as Lan Qiren recoiled like a cat doused with water.

Lan Wangji stepped forward, his shadow falling across Wei Wuxian in a protective arc. "Uncle," he said calmly, "the donkey was hungry."

The simplicity of the statement hung in the air like an unanswered guqin note. Lan Qiren opened his mouth, closed it, then pointed a shaking finger at the trampled remnants of his prized moon orchid hybrids. "Hungry," he repeated flatly.

Lan Qiren’s foot came down on a stray apple core with a squelch that seemed to echo across the entire Cloud Recesses. The disciples nearest the gate visibly trembled. Little Apple, sensing the shift in atmosphere, sidled behind Lan Wangji with uncharacteristic caution, though not before nipping at Wei Wuxian’s sleeve in passing, as if to say *this is your fault.*

Wei Wuxian, ever the picture of contrition when it suited him, widened his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest. “Shufu, I swear on my honor—”

“You have none,” Lan Qiren snapped, his beard quivering.

“—that this was purely an educational demonstration!” Wei Wuxian finished brightly, gesturing to the wreckage with the grace of a street performer. “Lan Zhan was teaching the juniors about… conflict resolution! With livestock! Very advanced cultivation theory, really—”

Lan Qiren’s eyelid twitched. The broken teacup at his feet might as well have been his patience. "Livestock," he repeated, voice strained thinner than the last thread of his sanity.

Little Apple, sensing an opportunity, nudged Lan Wangji’s hip with his nose—not for apples now, but for protection. Lan Wangji didn’t move, though his fingers flexed around Wei Wuxian’s wrist in silent warning.

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Yes! See, Hanguang-jun was demonstrating how to—”

A disciple sneezed. The sound cracked through the courtyard like a misfired talisman. Lan Qiren’s head swiveled toward the noise, his glare sharp enough to flay skin. The junior, barely sixteen and trembling like a leaf, squeaked and dropped his broom.

The broom clattered against the stones with a sound like a death knell. Lan Qiren inhaled through his nose—a slow, shuddering breath that made the hairs on Wei Wuxian’s arms stand on end. Little Apple, ever the opportunist, seized the moment of distraction to pluck a stray mint leaf from Lan Qiren’s sleeve with his teeth.

Wei Wuxian choked on a laugh. Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his pulse jump under the pressure. Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his gaze darting between the donkey’s smug chewing and Wei Wuxian’s poorly concealed amusement. “Wei Wuxian,” he ground out, each syllable sharp as a blade, “you will—”

“Apologize?” Wei Wuxian interrupted, batting his lashes. “Of course, Shufu! I’m deeply sorry for—”

Lan Qiren’s palm hit the courtyard table with a crack that silenced even the birds in the trees. The disciples froze mid-sweep, their faces pale as rice paper. “Enough,” he hissed, his voice trembling with the force of his rage. “You will take that—that creature—” He jabbed a finger at Little Apple, who blinked back with exaggerated innocence, “—and remove it from the Cloud Recesses at once.”

Lan Qiren’s command hung in the air like the lingering scent of crushed apples, absolute, unwavering, and utterly impossible. Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to protest, but Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened around his wrist in silent warning. Little Apple, sensing the shift, pressed his damp nose against Wei Wuxian’s palm with a soft huff that sounded suspiciously like a plea.

Lan Qiren’s gaze darted between them, his lip curling as he took in the donkey’s sudden docility. “At once,” he repeated, enunciating each word as if speaking to particularly slow children.

Wei Wuxian sighed dramatically, slumping against Lan Wangji’s side. “Ah, Shufu, you’re so cruel! How can you exile this innocent creature when he’s clearly—”

“Innocent?” Lan Qiren’s voice cracked on the word. His finger trembled as he pointed at the trampled herbs, the shattered teacups, the apple cores glistening like evidence of some obscene crime. “That beast has destroyed half the courtyard!”

Little Apple blinked his long lashes, then deliberately lowered his head to nibble at Lan Qiren's sleeve cuff. The elder recoiled as if burned, but the donkey merely chewed with exaggerated innocence, his ears twitching in a rhythm that almost resembled... remorse. Wei Wuxian pressed his forehead against Lan Wangji's shoulder to smother his laughter, feeling the subtle tremor running through his husband's frame.

Lan Wangji cleared his throat. "Uncle," he said, his voice smoother than the jade tiles beneath their feet, "the donkey demonstrates improved behavior."

As if on cue, Little Apple lifted his head and deposited a half-chewed moon orchid, stolen earlier from the trampled garden, into Lan Qiren's trembling hand. The elder stared at the mangled petals, his face cycling through shades of red usually reserved for overripe peppers. Wei Wuxian held his breath.

The courtyard gate creaked again. Every head turned as Lan Xichen emerged, his smile never faltering despite the wreckage. His gaze swept over the shattered teacups, the trampled herbs, the apple cores, lingering briefly on Wei Wuxian's disheveled state before settling on Little Apple's drool-coated muzzle. "Ah," he said mildly, "I see the educational demonstration went well."

Lan Xichen’s arrival scattered the tension like a well-placed breeze. Wei Wuxian straightened just enough to flash him a grin that would’ve charmed honey from bees, if not for Lan Qiren’s audible teeth-grinding nearby. Little Apple, ever the opportunist, seized the moment to press his forehead against Lan Wangji’s thigh with a pitiful whuffle.

Lan Xichen’s smile didn’t waver as he plucked a stray apple leaf from his sleeve. "Shufu," he said, tone smoother than freshly poured tea, "perhaps we might discuss this over—"

"The donkey stays," Lan Wangji interjected, his fingers still locked around Wei Wuxian’s wrist like a manacle forged from pure stubbornness.

Lan Qiren’s mustache twitched. "Wangji—"

Lan Xichen stepped forward, his robes whispering against the scattered apple cores as he positioned himself between his seething uncle and the donkey currently attempting to nibble his sash. "Perhaps," he suggested gently, plucking another crushed leaf from Lan Qiren's shoulder, "we might consider this an... unconventional lesson in patience."

Little Apple chose that moment to sneeze directly onto Lan Xichen's immaculate sleeve. The resulting silence was so absolute Wei Wuxian could hear the drip of donkey snot hitting stone.

Lan Wangji's grip on Wei Wuxian's wrist shifted, subtly possessive as he rotated his palm upward to catch the single apple core balanced precariously on the courtyard table's edge. With the precision of a man who'd spent years anticipating Wei Wuxian's chaos, he tossed it toward Little Apple's waiting muzzle. The donkey caught it mid-air with a snap that made several disciples flinch.

Lan Qiren's eyelid twitched visibly. "This is not," he enunciated slowly, "a discussion."

The courtyard held its breath. Even Little Apple paused mid-chew, apple pulp dripping from his lips like an unspoken taunt. Lan Qiren’s shadow stretched across the shattered teacups, long and trembling, as he inhaled through his nose with the restraint of a man clinging to his last shred of dignity. Wei Wuxian, still pressed against Lan Wangji’s side, felt the exact moment his husband’s fingers loosened their grip, not in surrender, but preparation.

Lan Xichen cleared his throat. “Perhaps,” he began, gently extracting his sleeve from Little Apple’s drooling grasp, “we might adjourn to—”

“No.” Lan Qiren’s voice cracked like winter ice underfoot. His gaze locked onto Wei Wuxian’s throat, where the salve-slicked bite marks glistened in the sunlight, before flicking to Lan Wangji’s torn robes. The elder’s jaw worked soundlessly for three heartbeats before he exhaled sharply through his nose. “Clean this,” he ordered the cowering disciples, then turned on his heel with a swirl of robes that sent crushed mint leaves scattering.

The moment Lan Qiren’s silhouette vanished beyond the gate, the courtyard erupted. A junior shrieked as Little Apple lunged for the forgotten apple core in his hand. Another disciple tripped over his own broom in his haste to escape. Wei Wuxian, still clinging to Lan Wangji’s arm, burst into laughter so violent it bent him double. “Did you see—” he wheezed, clutching his ribs, “—his face when Little Apple—”

Lan Wangji caught Wei Wuxian by the waist before his laughter could topple them both into the trampled herbs. His grip burned through the thin fabric of Wei Wuxian's robes, equal parts restraint and anchor as Little Apple pranced victoriously around them, kicking up crushed mint leaves with every gleeful buck of his hind legs.

Lan Xichen sighed, plucking apple pulp from his sleeve with the dignity of a man who'd long since accepted the inevitability of chaos. "Perhaps," he mused, watching as a junior scrambled up a tree to escape Little Apple's celebratory headbutts, "we might relocate the donkey's... education to a less fragile environment."

Wei Wuxian wiped tears from his eyes, still gasping between giggles. "Ah, Xichen-ge, but where's the fun in that?" He ducked under Lan Wangji's arm, snatching an apple core from the ground before Little Apple could claim it. The donkey froze mid-prance, ears swiveling forward with alarming intensity. "See?" Wei Wuxian dangled the core just out of reach, grinning when Little Apple's nostrils flared. "Motivation is key to—hey!"

Lan Wangji intercepted the apple core with his free hand, his expression impassive as Little Apple's hopeful nudge nearly knocked Wei Wuxian off balance. "No," he said simply, and tucked the core into his own sleeve with the solemnity of a sacred text.

Lan Xichen’s lips twitched as Wei Wuxian gaped at Lan Wangji’s sleeve like it had personally betrayed him. “Lan Zhan!” he whined, draping himself dramatically over his husband’s arm. “That was my last bargaining chip!”

Little Apple, ever the opportunist, seized the moment to shove his nose directly into Wei Wuxian’s ribs with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. Lan Wangji’s hand shot out—not to steady Wei Wuxian, but to pluck a stray apple leaf from Little Apple’s forelock with the precision of a swordsman disarming an opponent. The donkey blinked, then promptly attempted to eat Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon.

“No,” Lan Wangji said, catching the dangling end mere inches from Little Apple’s teeth.

Wei Wuxian cackled, rubbing his sore ribs. “He’s got a death wish today, eh Lan Zhan?”

Lan Xichen cleared his throat, a sound like distant temple bells muffled by sheer force of will. Wei Wuxian watched, fascinated, as a single apple seed dislodged from Little Apple's whiskers and landed with a plink on Lan Wangji's boot. The silence that followed was the kind usually reserved for funeral rites.

"Perhaps," Lan Xichen began, eyeing the donkey currently attempting to chew through Lan Wangji's sash, "we might relocate this... discussion to the back hills?" His smile never wavered, though his sleeve twitched when Little Apple's tail flicked a crushed mint leaf onto his shoulder.

Lan Wangji's grip on Wei Wuxian's waist tightened, subtly possessive as Little Apple snorted directly into Lan Xichen's sash. Wei Wuxian bit his lip hard enough to taste copper. "Ah, Xichen-ge," he gasped, shoulders shaking, "but the educational value of—"

The donkey chose that moment to sneeze again, spraying Lan Xichen's robes with flecks of half-digested apple. Three juniors simultaneously dropped their brooms.

Lan Xichen blinked very slowly, the way one might regard an impending natural disaster. A single fleck of apple pulp slid down his pristine sleeve. Wei Wuxian pressed both hands over his mouth, shoulders shaking violently as Little Apple, utterly oblivious, licked Lan Wangji’s discarded forehead ribbon where it dangled near his hoof.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen said with terrifying calm, "perhaps you might... retrieve your ribbon."

Lan Wangji didn’t move. His fingers flexed around Wei Wuxian’s hipbone, thumb pressing into the bruise there with deliberate precision. "Mn."

Little Apple, interpreting this as permission, promptly swallowed the ribbon whole.

Wei Wuxian's laughter died in his throat with a choked gasp. Even Lan Wangji's fingers froze against his hipbone, a rare moment of genuine shock. The entire courtyard seemed to hold its breath as Little Apple licked his lips with an air of smug satisfaction, ears twitching in what could only be described as triumph.

Lan Xichen's smile remained perfectly serene. Only the slight twitch of his left eyelid betrayed him. "Ah," he said, tone lighter than a spring breeze, "perhaps we should consider this a lesson in... resourcefulness."

The silence shattered. Wei Wuxian wheezed, clutching Lan Wangji's sleeve for balance as his knees buckled. "Xichen-ge—your ribbon—he—"

Lan Wangji's grip tightened. His other hand rose slowly—not toward the donkey, but to press two fingers against the bridge of his nose with the resignation of a man who'd long since accepted his fate. Little Apple, sensing victory, sidled closer and nudged Wei Wuxian's elbow with his damp nose, as if demanding congratulations.