…bestow upon your betrothed your most personal gifts…
Next, familiarization.
Before he can condition his beloved’s body to accept the role Lan Wangji has assigned him, the other man coughs wetly, the force of it wracking his body. His head bows forward to rest against Lan Wangji’s thigh, right next to his exposed, dripping cock, still red and hard from his induced rut.
“What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian manages to rasp, his damp breath igniting a warm spot on Lan Wangji’s clothed leg. “Who the hell even does that anymore – the last time anyone got pissmarked, Lan An was probably still alive!”
He sounds scratchy, aggrieved. He does not push away from Lan Wangji’s leg.
Lan Wangji doesn’t bother to dignify his statement of the obvious with a response. He’s not quite correct, but Lan Wangji does not blame Wei Wuxian for not knowing all of the sordid details relating to Qingheng-jun’s infamous marriage.
Instead, he reaches under Wei Wuxian’s bound arms and lifts him to his feet, flipping him over and pressing a demanding hand on the small of his back, bending him over the low-hanging branch in front of him.
The relatively cheap fabric of Wei Wuxian’s pants falls apart easily, leaving his bare, plump ass at the perfect height for Lan Wangji to breed him.
With nothing more than drying saliva, piss, and cum easing the way, Lan Wangji forces his cock into the tiny, unused slit that has lain dormant behind Wei Wuxian’s balls ever since the younger man presented as an alpha.
…Pierce your betrothed upon your true self, carve your future into their very being. Let nature take its course…
Wei Wuxian screams in pain.
Lan Wangji grits his teeth at just how tight Wei Wuxian’s pussy is. He bullies his way forward, not stopping until he is fully sheathed inside those dry walls, his balls flush against his beloved’s pale ass.
Hissing, Lan Wangji pulls out all the way, slamming back inside mercilessly. Blood leaks from where they’re connected.
Settling into a punishing rhythm, Lan Wangji strains his senses trying to catch any change in Wei Wuxian’s scent or behavior.
He knows that he’s being far too hasty in his search, that the final shift will be obvious, but he is impatient. He’s wanted this man to be his, to belong to him, for years.
Wei Wuxian thrashes under him, trying to cant his hips away from the intruding appendage, but only succeeding in grinding against unforgiving bark. His back muscles ripple, straining against his bound hands and awful position.
Lan Wangji can smell his tears, can see, hear, and feel the ugly sobs that wrack his thin body. He narrows his eyes – as much as he enjoys the act of completely dominating his chosen, it is almost insulting that Wei Wuxian is so adamant in refusing his new lot in life.
The next time he rams into the tight clutch of Wei Wuxian’s pussy, he brings his hand down on that pale, quivering ass.
Wei Wuxian keens, freezing in place as a gush of previously non-existent slick floods his abused passage.
“No, no, don’t – not that, er-gege… No, you can’t –”
Lan Wangji nearly rolls his eyes at Wei Wuxian’s denial.
Leaning forward, he inhales deeply at the bleeding scent gland in front of him, fisting his loose hair to yank his head back and expose the long line of his throat.
“Wei Ying is wrong to deny that he wants this,” Lan Wangji growls into his ear, landing another punishing slap against the already swelling cheek. Wei Wuxian lets out another broken yell as his hips spasm, seemingly unsure of which way to push. Lan Wangji can smell his arousal, the sharp alpha musk already tinted with something softer, something floral.
Lan Wangji grinds harshly into Wei Wuxian, the head of his cock pushing against something hard, blocking him from penetrating his wife to the core.
(A core, Lan Wangji distantly notes in the near-hibernating rational part of his mind, that is nowhere to be found. Something for him to fix another day, after his wife’s position at his side is fully secured.)
