[ oh, jiang-xiong. some things never change. the fierce sect leader of yunmeng, the architect of lotus pier, sandu shengshou. powerful, confident, fierce-- jiang cheng is as impressive as he's ever been, but underneath that, he's still the kid from gusu-lan, that got embarrassed when huaisang would pull out his books and he and wei wuxian would titter over them together for hours.
the fierce part of him shows in these situations in spades. this is not the first or even the tenth time they've done this, secret rendevouzs here in the bathhouse or in nie huaisang's room or even at discussion conferences, trying to muffle themselves, and it's still ever as pleasant when jiang cheng runs his fingers down his spine like that. he shifts with it, graceful as ever, back arching slowly, head tipping up. that fierce part is what hikes him upwards: the motion surprises him, but huiasang goes with it gleefully, his mouth falling open in a pretty little oh! shape before he closes it again and smiles down at jiang cheng from this new position. it's soft and warm and a little mischievous, like someone plotting something. (he is, in some ways, even now, always plotting something. it's never for power. it's often for his own benefit or laziness or both.)
but the hesitant, embarrassed part comes out too. nie huaisang feels a fondness tug at his heartstrings, and he moves to press his fingers delicately to the broad expanse of jiang cheng's chest, dainty and more powerful than anytime he's ever tried to swing a saber. ] Tired?
[ hm. the fondness overflows into his gaze, too, warm, as he walks his fingers up jiang cheng's chest, one by one. ] I'm quite tired of listening to other sect leaders at the discussion conference next week, and it hasn't even started. I'm tired of paperwork. I'm really tired of my advisors sending matchmaking agencies to my door.
[ as he speaks, he leans in closer, mouth curling up, and his tone drops to near a whisper, sticky sweet and slow like honey, barely a breath away from his mouth. ] But, Jiang-xiong, I couldn't imagine a day where I was too tired to fall into bed with you.
[ as he finishes his sentence, nie huaisang rolls his hips down against jiang cheng's under the water, right into the stroke of his thumbs. his thighs part a little further when he drifts inwards, invitingly. asking. daring, really. nie huaisang will sign it for him, and deliver it while he's at it. ]
no subject
the fierce part of him shows in these situations in spades. this is not the first or even the tenth time they've done this, secret rendevouzs here in the bathhouse or in nie huaisang's room or even at discussion conferences, trying to muffle themselves, and it's still ever as pleasant when jiang cheng runs his fingers down his spine like that. he shifts with it, graceful as ever, back arching slowly, head tipping up. that fierce part is what hikes him upwards: the motion surprises him, but huiasang goes with it gleefully, his mouth falling open in a pretty little oh! shape before he closes it again and smiles down at jiang cheng from this new position. it's soft and warm and a little mischievous, like someone plotting something. (he is, in some ways, even now, always plotting something. it's never for power. it's often for his own benefit or laziness or both.)
but the hesitant, embarrassed part comes out too. nie huaisang feels a fondness tug at his heartstrings, and he moves to press his fingers delicately to the broad expanse of jiang cheng's chest, dainty and more powerful than anytime he's ever tried to swing a saber. ] Tired?
[ hm. the fondness overflows into his gaze, too, warm, as he walks his fingers up jiang cheng's chest, one by one. ] I'm quite tired of listening to other sect leaders at the discussion conference next week, and it hasn't even started. I'm tired of paperwork. I'm really tired of my advisors sending matchmaking agencies to my door.
[ as he speaks, he leans in closer, mouth curling up, and his tone drops to near a whisper, sticky sweet and slow like honey, barely a breath away from his mouth. ] But, Jiang-xiong, I couldn't imagine a day where I was too tired to fall into bed with you.
[ as he finishes his sentence, nie huaisang rolls his hips down against jiang cheng's under the water, right into the stroke of his thumbs. his thighs part a little further when he drifts inwards, invitingly. asking. daring, really. nie huaisang will sign it for him, and deliver it while he's at it. ]