Hanguang-jun tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. His gaze is heady, the creature lurking behind those molten gold eyes. “You are terrifying in your stubbornness and unpredictability, and all the more beautiful for it.”
.........................................
His vision swims and the characters on the scroll look so much like incomprehensible scribbles that they might as well have been written in another language. Fingers scramble across the tabletops uselessly, nails dragging through the ridges on the surface. Scattered whimpers and muffled moans echo through the air, muted enough that only those inside the pavilion could hear them.
“Finish today’s punishment,” the voice behind him rumbles, the deep tone resonating through his nerves and sparking his senses alight.
“Laoshi,” Wei Wuxian breathes raggedly, unable to think straight. The hard chest pressed against him is robbing him of any sense and coherency, stealing any chance of clarity. Body warmth seeps through their bodies, heating up his sweating skin even more.
He says again, pleadingly, “Laoshi. Please.”
“I will not repeat what I said,” the man says. It should be insulting, the way his voice remains even and steady, not revealing even a hint of anything. But Wei Wuxian knows where to find the tell, the one thing that will betray the sheer want coursing through their veins.
He knows that if he looks back, molten gold eyes will stare right at him, ready to devour at the next sign of weakness.
Wei Wuxian exhales through gritted teeth, attempting to stop his hips from undulating into the friction, the fingers inside him are very insistent and encompassing. Another hand is pressing into his throbbing clit and drawing nonsensical circles, its rhythm unpredictable that the pleasure lies on a seesaw of sensation.
He forces his own hand to move and finish inscribing the final set of characters to complete his punishment for today. The rules of the Lan clan will be scarred into the back of his eyes if this continues, although that may have been the intention of the discipline in the first place.
A sigh escapes his lips, part pleasure and part resignation. Despite his current, or upcoming, status in the Lan clan, he still cannot escape from the endless slew of punishments.
Not that it is much of a punishment, considering his situation right now.
Once he’s at the final column, the fingers inside his pulsating pussy move, retreating before thrusting with an incriminating slap of skin, nearly shoving Wei Wuxian off the comfortable lap he’s been sitting on for the last few hours.
“Laoshi,” he whines. “Be gentle, be gentle. I am nothing but a weak mortal, so fragile and vulnerable.” A choked whimper escapes him as the man doesn’t even seem to hear him, merely resuming the tormenting pace and casually dismissing any of his words as though they were insignificant.
When his brush finally tips over to that last stroke, splattering an ink stain on the scroll, the fingers inside of him speed up, releasing loud and scandalous squelches with every slide. Wei Wuxian pushes the stack of papers off the table carelessly; they’ll probably crumple but that’s the better option than having to redo everything because they’d gotten dirtied in the following proceedings.
After all, laoshi always told him he makes such a mess.
“Good, you’ve finished your punishment,” the man behind him comments, apparently indifferent that Wei Wuxian merely discarded said papers of punishment with ease.
The movements on his clit become more purposeful, drawing tighter circles around the pulsing bundle of nerves. The dual pleasure drowns him through the inevitability of his climax.
