[曦澄 | XiCheng][MDZS Modern AU]: All The Things I Never Told You [~PART 2~]

〽️👁‍🗨 Chapter 239: Post-Orgasmic. [TW]

the 24th of January

Jiang Wanyin woke up under neon radiance. There was a taste of hot iron in his mouth.

He was in a soft place, warm: tucked in and covered with Lan Xichen's coat.

He blinked in the purple-bluish light, slow to recall last night. He blinked, letting his eyes get used to the sight, but his gaze was rather caught by what was happening near the door.

What was so special about that door?

They had bumped against a couple of doors last night. They had even fucked against one. He smiled slightly, remembering. His lips were dry, and he tried to lick them  -  yes, they tasted of blood and he frowned.

He was inside the soft belly of the fucking flamboyant spaceship, surrounded by empty soda cans and bottles, and the remnants of a ruined birthday cake. 

He cuddled deeper into the cashmere winter coat that smelled like Lan Huan, and blinked again sleepily. His eyelids were heavy, and he was tired, and he ached in some new places; but he didn't quite want to leave, at all.

Why wasn't he being hugged? Why wasn't he being kissed? Why wasn't he being held tight, breathless, choking under the weight of another? Why wasn't he  here?

His mind woke up a little more, and his eyes wandered towards the door again, focusing this time.

There, in focus, finally, was Lan Huan, talking to what probably was the club's manager  -  a lean and unnaturally tall man of undefinable age, his hair and eyebrows shaven off. He was smiling an unpleasant smile and nodding, carefully listening to Lan Xichen, who was speaking very quietly, obviously unwilling to wake him up.

He smiled again.

"Silly boy."  -  he thought, that his heart melted with tenderness.

He  looked gloriously. His  white shirt was in a pathetic state; it was as if Lan Xichen had fought against, and had been mauled by, a pack of wild jackals. It was smeared with what could only be blood, which now should look dry and auburn, probably, by normal daylight, but in the artificial turquoise limelight it rather looked brown, even black.

Was it day? Was it night still? How long had he slept?

The room was without windows. No escapes.

He reached down to find his pocket  -  and then  -  his phone, but... his hand slid into a gaping hole in the piece of clothing, and he, surprised, found out, groping further, that his pants were falling to pieces.

His phone was missing, but that was the lesser evil. He had no idea how he was going to get home. Get to the car even. His underwear had been totally destroyed hours ago.