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eleanorfenyxwrites · 10 months ago

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Let's Get Down Tonight

The Waves Are Rising and Rising Extra Scene #6

NieYao are obsessed with each other again.......who could have foreseen this happening........do they also accidentally push painful buttons? In MY NieYao? It's exactly as likely as you think.

--//--

Nie Mingjue climbs to his feet with a low groan, stretching out his back and arms, and flexing his hand a few times. He has spent the whole afternoon stuck in meetings - either with the few Nie elders still sensate enough to contribute to sect politics, or with minor sect leaders and merchants. Half way through the afternoon he was informed by Nie Zonghui that Lianfang-zun had arrived and been shown to his usual guest bedroom, and it had been agony knowing that it would be hours before he would be able to leave and seek him out for a proper hello. When the meetings were finished, he’d opted to stay at his desk in Blade Hall for a little while longer and finish off a few bits of paperwork, so that when he was done he would really truly be done, and be able to devote all of his attention to thoroughly greeting his partner.

He stacks up the papers and, as he leaves the hall, passes them to a servant to be taken to his formal study. A flicker of excitement builds inside of him as he strides through the halls of Bujing Shi, trying to keep down the spring in his step as his mind runs A-Yao, A-Yao, A-Yao on repeat. He will be staying for three full days this time, and Nie Mingjue has every intention of making the most of them.

Lan Xichen will be arriving tomorrow, a thought that sends a fresh burst of happiness through his heart. He’d deliberately opted to arrive a day later than Jin Guangyao, encouraging the other two of them to spend time together alone; compared to what each of them have with Lan Xichen, their relationship is still fresh and fledgeling, still trying to figure itself out, and Nie Mingjue is immensely grateful that their mutual partner is very understanding of that.

Nie Mingjue slides open the door to his rooms, and steps inside. He stops short in his shock.

In front of him stands Meng Yao.

Meng-fushi, specifically, his glossy hair pulled back in Nie braids denoting his rank, and his hands smoothing down his pale purple robes, accented with brown stripes and a subtle geometric pattern that marks them as Nie, as he twists to admire them in Nie Mingjue’s mirror. Meng-fushi had cinched the thick robes tight around his waist with a brown leather belt, but he’d taken that with him when he’d left Qinghe, so today Jin Guangyao has made do with just a light sash.

Jin Guangyao spots Nie Mingjue’s reflection in the mirror and spins around fast enough to make the layers of his robes flare out around him. He blinks owlishly and seems to actually be a little embarrassed - which is ridiculous, because the robes do technically still belong to him.

The far, far more embarrassing thing is that Nie Mingjue still has them, years later.

In his own bedroom.

Well, shit.

They stare at each other in silence for several moments. Nie Mingjue feels his ears burn in mortification. He finally finds the presence of mind to slide the door closed behind him, clearing his throat, and that seems to bring Jin Guangyao to his senses too.

“Sorry,” he says, “I wasn’t trying to snoop through your things, I was…” he huffs a laugh, then bites his lip on an awkward grin, looking up at Nie Mingjue through his eyelashes, “I thought perhaps I could surprise you by wearing one of your overrobes - you always like it when I wear them - so I was looking through your clothes, and I found… these.”

Despite his personal embarrassment, Nie Mingjue can’t help returning the grin. “I’m not surprised they still fit you. One of these days you’ll stay still for long enough to actually put on a few pounds.”

Jin Guangyao rolls his eyes at the well-trodden ground of that particular teasing, then tilts his head, fiddling a little with the brown trim on his close-cut sleeves. “Mingjue… why do you still have them?”

“Ah,” Nie Mingjue’s grin turns sheepish, “well, after you left Qinghe-”

He can see in the way that Meng Yao’s mouth immediately pinches that he wants to give a snappish retort to that, but he stays silent instead, and what is that if not progress? They’ve had their share of discussions about that day, and all of them have been deeply unpleasant. Nie Mingjue walks over to Jin Guangyao as he speaks, suddenly aching to touch him, show him that’s grateful for the restraint.

“-I went through your room to check for any paperwork or sect business. Most of your stuff I left alone for Huaisang to pack up - I assumed you would go on and try your luck in Lanling, and we’d be able to pass it all on to you once you’d settled - but then I found those robes, and…”

He reaches Jin Guangyao and stretches out his arm to rest a hand on the back of his neck, on the warm skin under the thick curtain of his hair. Jin Guangyao leans into his touch and leans against his chest, looping an arm around his waist and looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Well, uh. I couldn’t quite bring myself to get rid of them. They were in the Nie style, after all, so I figured you wouldn’t wear them again anyway.”

Jin Guangyao’s open curious expression slides into a sly smile. He walks his fingertips up Nie Mingjue’s chest teasingly. “Ohhh, gege,” he coos, “did big powerful Chifeng-zun drop to his knees and weep over this humble little one’s robes?”

Nie Mingjue thinks that he keeps his reaction quite well restrained, but apparently just the tiniest twitch of his mouth and flicker of his eyes is sufficient to clue Jin Guangyao into his thoughts nowadays.

“Oh! You did?” Jin Guangyao gasps, looking far more delighted than he has any right to be. Unable to meet his eyes and smug little grin, Nie Mingjue ducks his head and delivers a careful bite to the side of his partner’s neck in retaliation.

“Hey, ow, stop that - Mingjue!” Jin Guangyao brings up a hand to shove at his face, “I think it’s sweet. Don’t be crabby.”

Nie Mingjue presses an apology kiss over the spot he bit, then rubs the skin with his moustache until Jin Guangyao squirms around in his arms, trying to limit his access. This leaves them pressed front-to-back, standing in front of the mirror. Nie Mingjue rests his chin on top of Jin Guangyao’s head as they both take a moment to watch their reflections.

They look good together. Particularly good, if Nie Mingjue says so himself.

Jin Guangyao hums thoughtfully, resting his arms on top of where Nie Mingjue’s are wrapped around his middle and leaning back against his chest. “Meng Yao,” he murmurs as he stares at his own slightly distorted face in the mirror.

He goes quiet, and something about that silence feels melancholic, so Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to the top of Jin Guangyao’s head, and aims for levity.

“You know, you were very cute back then, but I much prefer you now.”

Jin Guangyao sucks in a sharp little breath. “Really?” He asks, and although his tone is casual, there’s tightness in his voice that indicates some kind of pain.

“Definitely,” Nie Mingjue says. He kisses Jin Guangyao’s head again for good measure.

They stand there together for a few more moments, Nie Mingjue content to wait as Jin Guangyao breathes through whatever emotion has abruptly arisen inside of him, rocking him a little, absently, from side to side, feeling the tension slowly ebb out of his body. When he is calm again, he turns in the circle of Nie Mingjue’s arms, and smirks up at him, head tilted mischievously.

“Maybe I can keep these robes on for tonight,” he murmurs, gripping Nie Mingjue’s lapels as he stands up on his toes. “Perhaps we could… play around a little. What do you think?”

Nie Mingjue blinks, pulse racing. Their relationship is still quite new, and they’ve never tried anything like this before. He’s never had any particular inclination to pretend to be someone besides himself, but… there’s a lot he would do for that smirk. And who knows, maybe it would be fun.

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue leans down so he’s speaking against Jin Guangyao’s lips, “what did you have in mind?”

–//–

Meng Yao steps into the room, his slight form moving as lightly as a courtesan, as gracefully as a dancer, making his way towards Nie-zongzhu’s desk. It’s late, and he’s finally finished the last of his paperwork, and he needs to leave it for his master to look over. If he’s quick, he can set it down in Nie-zongzhu’s rooms and slip back out again before the imposing man returns from the training grounds.

He bends to adjust the paper on the low table, making certain it is set straight - Nie-zongzhu is very particular and so easy to anger, so Meng Yao always does his best to make everything perfect - before standing back up and turning towards the door.

“Oh!” Meng Yao gasps, hands flying to his mouth.

In the doorway stands Nie Mingjue, silhouetted in the moonlight, nothing but a huge mountain of a man. Meng Yao cannot see his expression, so he dips into a low apologetic bow, just in case.

“Zongzhu! This one is terribly sorry for being in your rooms at such an hour, I just wished to drop off the day’s reports so that you could look them over first thing tomorrow morning. I will take my leave, and my deepest apologies for inconveniencing you.”

Nie Mingjue says nothing, shadowed face inscrutable.

Meng Yao gulps.

He straightens up from his bow and makes his way to the door, expecting Nie Mingjue to step aside, but even as he approaches and gets close, the man does not move. Meng Yao stops a few paces away, terrified to meet his eyes, and yet at the same time, desperate to glean some understanding as to what he’s thinking. He flicks his gaze up; up, up, over the huge rippling muscles of his chest, to his severe face, hard eyes, and mouth set in a fierce frown. Meng Yao’s heart pounds.

“Zongzhu?” He whispers.

Nie Mingjue reaches behind himself and slides the door closed.

Meng Yao’s pounding heart leaps into his throat.

“It’s late,” Nie Mingjue rumbles. “If you are seen leaving my quarters at such an hour, there will be gossip,” in the gloom, Meng Yao can just about make out Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows lowering, “I do not like gossip.”

“Yes, zongzhu,” Meng Yao says. “Of course. What- what does zongzhu suggest this one does?”

“Meng-fushi will stay in my rooms tonight.”

Meng Yao glances over his shoulder towards the day bed, sat at the end of Nie-zongzhu’s office area. It looks comfortable enough. He can certainly manage it for one night. “Nie-zongzhu is very wise, this one will-”

He turns back and cuts himself off with a squeak; Nie Mingjue has closed the gap between them, and the end of Meng Yao’s nose is nearly touching Chifeng-zun’s mighty chest. Meng Yao stumbles backwards, but each step back he takes is matched by one of Nie Mingjue’s huge strides, chasing him until Meng Yao feels his back hit the wall. Meng Yao gulps again, his heart beating so hard he feels like it might burst out of his ribcage.

“Nie-zongzhu?” Meng Yao whimpers, blinking up at his master with his huge, doelike eyes.

Nie Mingjue does not respond. He plants one huge hand against the wall on one side of Meng Yao’s head, and the other on the other side, caging him in with his arms. Slowly he leans in, so the rock-solid form of his huge body presses against Meng Yao’s tiny form, and Meng Yao sucks in a gasp as he feels the long line of Nie Mingjue’s hard cock press against his stomach.

“Chifeng-zun…” Meng Yao whispers, flattening himself against the wall, eyes darting around, looking for escape. “Please, I…”

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue says, exasperated, “explain to me - what about you being scared of me is supposed to be sexy?”

Jin Guangyao sighs, dropping his head back against the wall, “Some people like it.”

Nie Mingjue pushes away off the wall, stepping back, “It just feels weird to me, if I’m honest. I don’t think it’s my thing.”

“Fine, fine,” Jin Guangyao concedes, then rubs the centre of his forehead wearily, “it was kind of weird. Let’s try something else.”

–//–

Meng Yao sashays into the room, his lithe form moving as smoothly as a courtesan, as artfully as a dancer, making his way towards Nie-zongzhu’s desk. It is late, and Nie Mingjue is still working, his muscular form curled over his paperwork, his teeth worrying at his plump bottom lip as he concentrates.

Meng Yao closes the door behind him, the sound low but still enough to alert Nie Mingjue’s superior cultivator senses. He looks up, and his dark, sensual gaze sends heat shooting through Meng Yao’s body.

“Nie-zongzhu,” Meng Yao says, bending over to bow, though keeping his head raised just a little, so he can look at his sect leader through his eyelashes. “This one is finished with his other duties. Is there anything else this one can do to serve you tonight?”

Nie Mingjue clears his throat. “Meng Yao could… uh, pour me a drink.”

“This Meng Yao would be glad to.”

Meng Yao crosses the length of the room slowly, making sure Nie Mingjue has ample time to appreciate the way his body moves; he lets one side of his over robe slip just slightly down, off the top of his shoulder, and bites his lip when he sees Nie Mingjue’s gaze snap to it. Meng Yao pauses at the cabinet against the wall, picking up the ceramic water jug, then crosses over to the desk. He adjusts his weight so he can drop carefully to his knees, but does not account for the cushion in front of the other side of the desk, so his foot catches. He gasps as the trip jolts the jug in his hands, sending a splash of water arcing perfectly over the desk, past the paperwork, and right into the middle of Nie Mingjue’s chest.

“Oh! Chifeng-zun!” Meng Yao cries, setting the jug down on the desk immediately. “This one apologises, what an embarrassing accident! Please, let me help.”

Nie Mingjue’s mouth twitches. He seems to be struggling to speak, so he nods instead.

Meng Yao crosses around the desk, and bends over; the collars of his inner robes are inexplicably eskew, giving Nie Mingjue a view of one fully exposed collarbone, and part of the way down to his chest. Meng Yao reaches for the lapels of Nie Mingjue’s outer robe and peels it down off his shoulders, before huffing and pouting when it gets stuck.

“Zongzhu, I’m going to have to take off your belt to get this nasty wet robe off,” he says, looking up at Nie Mingjue through his eyelashes again. “Will you let me take your big beast-head belt off, zongzhu?”

Nie Mingjue lifts his hand as if he is coughing into it, but the sound that he makes sounds rather more like a stifled laugh. He nods again.

Meng Yao sinks down to his knees slowly, holding eye contact with Nie Mingjue. He reaches out for the belt, and as his hand moves across Nie Mingjue’s lap, it dips to bump between his legs.

“Oops,” Meng Yao whispers, “this one is so clumsy today.”

Nie Mingjue snorts, then coughs again, then says, “It’s fine.”

Meng Yao carefully unbuckles the belt, unloops it from around Nie Mingjue’s waist by leaning in close and pressing his cheek to his chest, then returns to removing Nie Mingjue’s wet layers. Once the first one is gone, Meng Yao runs both hands carefully over the breadth of Nie-zongzhu’s chest, carefully feeling out the material.

“Oh zongzhu, you’re still so wet-”

Nie Mingjue bursts into laughter, then quickly slaps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he chokes out from behind his palm, “uh, aha, carry on.”

And Meng Yao does. He reaches around Nie Mingjue’s side to unpick the ties to each layer in succession, peeling them off his body with meticulous care, holding eye contact the whole time. Each robe is carefully folded and set aside, until Nie Mingjue is sat only in his trousers.

Meng Yao reaches out and presses his fingers to the centre of Nie Mingjue’s chest, tracing the glistening moisture clinging to the coarse layer of hair, and the taught, muscular flesh underneath.

“Oh dear,” Meng Yao purrs, “zongzhu, the water got all the way through your robes. What can I possibly use to dry you off now?”

His hands drop to his sash, “I suppose… there’s always… my robes…”

Nie Mingjue bursts out laughing again, and this time he cannot smother it, falling backwards onto his elbows and hopelessly cackling.

Jin Guangyao folds his arms. “For gods’ sake Mingjue, can you get it together? Would it kill you to try and improvise a little with me? It’s like talking to a stone wall. A stone wall that’s trying not to laugh.”

“Sorry,” Nie Mingjue wheezes from where he’s lying on the floor, “I just- what you were saying-” he bursts into another round of laughter.

“Nevermind,” Jin Guangyao grouses, rolling his eyes. “I should have known you’d be terrible at this.”

Nie Mingjue heaves himself back up into a sitting position, wiping at his eyes with the side of his hand, shoulders shaking with intermittent giggles, “No, no, let’s - let’s try something else, okay? Something less… porny.”

–//–

Meng Yao stalks into the room, his whip-thin form moving as dangerously as a courtesan, as sleekly as a dancer, making his way towards Nie-zongzhu’s desk. It’s late, the rest of the fort is asleep, and that is perfect for his intentions tonight.

Nie Mingjue is knelt in front of his desk, dressed in only his trousers, his hands bound behind his back. He looks up at Meng Yao as he walks in, watching as he slides the door shut behind him.

“What are you going to do to me?” Nie Mingjue asks warily.

Meng Yao smiles over his shoulder at him. His eyes are hooded and calm. “Only what you deserve, Chifeng-zun.”

Nie Mingjue swallows heavily.

Meng Yao walks slowly over towards him, his eyes raking over Nie Mingjue’s exposed chest, admiring the way his arms being pulled back stretches out his shoulders and pulls his muscles taut. He stops in front of Nie-zongzhu and just looks down at him for several moments, head cocked to the side, silent, before he pivots smoothly on his heel and begins to pace up and down in front of him leisurely.

“Nobody knows that I have you here,” Meng Yao says, almost conversationally, “and I’ve activated the privacy talismans, so there’s no point in kicking up a fuss. No one will hear you. Do you understand?”

Nie Mingjue frowns up at him. Meng Yao stops pacing to nudge him lightly in the side with his boot.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue says.

Meng Yao’s eyes go cold, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Meng-fushi,” Nie Mingjue growls.

The coldness immediately fades from Meng Yao’s eyes. He smiles lazily, a dimple popping in his cheek, then, quickly, as if acting purely on impulse, he ducks down to grab Nie Mingjue’s chin and capture his mouth in a sharp, biting kiss.

He straightens back up and returns to his slow pacing, hands tucked behind his back. The room is silent besides the low padding of his footfalls. Meng Yao flicks his hair over his shoulder as he approaches Baxia’s stand, so he can better look back towards Nie Mingjue. His lazy smile turns into a smirk as he sees the way Nie Mingjue’s stomach muscles tense, his eyes narrowing.

He stops, examining the saber, then tilts his head back so he can see Nie Mingjue out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Meng Yao tuts, “I thought you’d have more fight in you than this, Chifeng-zun.”

“What could I possibly have to say?” Nie Mingjue growls.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Meng Yao says airily, and Nie Mingjue sucks in a sharp breath as he begins to run his fingers down Baxia’s grip, and then back up again, fingertips catching lightly against its ridges. Meng Yao’s smirk grows wider. “I thought that maybe you’d want something. A hand, maybe. Or a mouth. I’ll let you have what you want if you ask nicely.”

Nie Mingjue hisses through his teeth.

“That didn’t sound like please to me,” Meng Yao murmurs.

Meng Yao’s fingers run suggestively up and down Baxia’s grip one last time, and then he pivots back and strolls across the room to where Nie Mingjue is kneeling. He looks down at his sect leader, an easy smirk on his lips, hair draped partly over his shoulder and the lines of his body confident, bold, full of almost lazy threat.

Nie Mingjue looks up at him, and abruptly, Meng Yao is no longer in the pale geometric purple Nie style robes, but slate grey and black, tight-fitting to set off his slender waist, eyes lined in kohl, and that same look on his face, blood splashed all across the floor-

“Mingjue?” Jin Guangyao drops to his knees and takes Nie Mingjue by the shoulders, “Are you alright?”

Mingjue. Meng Yao never called him that. Nie Mingjue blinks, and Jin Guangyao is before him again, eyes wide and full of concern.

“I’m alright,” Nie Mingjue says. He breathes deep until his shoulders stop trembling, and sighs in relief as Jin Guangyao’s clever fingers unpick the knots holding his wrists bound. He’d only been loosely tied with one of his own silk sashes, and should have been able to escape easily, and yet - somehow he’d… forgotten.

Jin Guangyao sits back on his heels and watches him, biting his lip. “What happened?”

“It was fine up until you started touching Baxia, and then-” Nie Mingjue sucks in a long breath through his nose, “it was… it was too close to Nightless City.”

Jin Guangyao nods stiffly. Now Nie Mingjue is a little calmer, he can see how brittle his partner looks, the way his hands are fisted in his robes like they’re the only thing holding him together. Nie Mingjue holds out his arm, and Jin Guangyao slumps in relief, curling into his chest with a long shaky exhale.

–//–

They relocate to the bed. For a while they just sit, curled together, breathing in tandem.

“You know,” Nie Mingjue says, resting his cheek against the top of Jin Guangyao’s head, “I was actually kind of enjoying the mean thing at first.”

Jin Guangyao snorts. “Really? You weren’t acting like it.”

Nie Mingjue shifts back, so they can look each other in the face whilst they talk. “I was trying to improvise with you. Inhabit the role and stuff, I don’t know.” He smiles, reaching up to tuck Jin Guangyao’s hair behind his ear, “I know you know I like it when you’re all bossy.”

That earns him a small, genuinely pleased smile, before Jin Guangyao tips over to rest against his chest again.

“So maybe we can try again,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, “just…”

“Stay away from anything too close to the past.”

They lapse into another silence, though this one is easier, each breath bringing them closer to peace. Jin Guangyao plays idly with a section of his hair, winding it into a small braid, and when he finishes with it, he shifts in Nie Mingjue’s arms, resting against his thigh and looking up at him.

“Did you… did you want me, back then? Back when I was Meng-fushi?”

Nie Mingjue hums thoughtfully. “I never let myself dwell on it long enough to consider it properly, but yes. Yes, I wanted you.”

Jin Guangyao jerks up into a sitting position again, open curiosity on his face. “You did?”

“You didn’t know?”

Jin Guangyao shakes his head slowly. “No, you never showed any interest in such things, so I assumed…”

“I didn’t want to pursue it because I didn’t think you’d take it very well. I was your sect leader, and given the way people treated you because of your mother, I didn’t want you to feel like you were pressured into anything.” Nie Mingjue sighs, “And then there was the buildup to the war, and…”

“And then you banished me,” Jin Guangyao murmurs.

Nie Mingjue sighs again. He wonders if there will ever be a time where that day isn’t an open wound on both their hearts.

“Mingjue,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, reaching over to rest his hand on Nie Mingjue’s, “what would you have done, if the war and all the other complications hadn’t happened, and I’d stayed with the Nie?”

–//–

Meng Yao walks into the room, his steps light and hesitant, sliding the door closed behind him then making his way towards Nie-zongzhu’s tea table. It’s late, and his sect leader has summoned him. It’s not out of the norm for the two of them to take tea later in the evening, when Nie Mingjue has been busy all day with meetings or training and hasn’t had a chance to run him through the required updates.

It is unusual, however, to see Nie Mingjue nervous.

At least, that’s what Meng Yao thinks is going on. The tall man is knelt on the far side of the table, hands on the surface of it and fingers drumming restlessly. Nie Mingjue is not a man who fidgets. Meng Yao has no idea what could possibly make Chifeng-zun nervous, and that, in turn, makes him nervous.

“Nie-zongzhu?”

“Ah, Meng Yao. Sit, sit.”

Meng Yao sinks to his knees on the cushion on the other side of the table, and inclines his head with a polite smile when Nie Mingjue pours him tea. He is grateful to have something to do with his hands so that he doesn’t start nervously fidgeting himself; he cradles his warm cup and breathes in the steam, trying to calm himself. If this were a major problem, Nie Mingjue would have summoned the elders too. Meng Yao is probably just reading him wrong. Whilst he has done his best to get close to the sect leader, the man can still sometimes be utterly opaque to him, his motives utterly alien.

When Nie Mingjue doesn’t speak, Meng Yao cautiously puts down his cup and lifts the stack of reports he’d brought with him. “I finished going through the accounts, like you asked.”

“Good, good,” Nie Mingjue says distractedly, “that, uh, that wasn’t what I called you here for though.”

Meng Yao swallows, totally at a loss, “Zongzhu?”

Nie Mingjue sucks in a deep breath, and, to Meng Yao’s bewilderment, his ears turn a little red.

“Meng Yao,” he says brusquely, tone flat, as if he is reciting from memory, “you are capable and smart and incredible at your job. I have no idea how I managed to keep this sect together without you. You are irreplaceable to me professionally…” Nie Mingjue hesitates, “and personally.”

Meng Yao’s eyes grow wide.

“Zongzhu?” he breathes, hand half raised to his mouth.

Nie Mingjue’s words tumble faster from his mouth,“If you are uncomfortable with this, then I swear I will never mention it again - or- or I can write you a letter of recommendation so that you may leave and get an equivalent position elsewhere. I know my good opinion would count for a great deal with Lan-zongzhu. You do not need to worry about anything of that nature.”

Meng Yao nods vaguely, more because it seems that Nie Mingjue wants a response than because he’s actually processing what the man is saying. Nie Mingjue reaches out and takes Meng Yao’s hands in his own rough, callused ones.

“Meng Yao, over the years that we have been working together… I have found myself falling for you. I thought that if I simply ignored the feelings, they would leave me be, but I have found the opposite - they have only grown stronger. My regard, respect, and care for you has become utterly impossible for me to ignore.” Nie Mingjue squeezes his hands gently, “Meng Yao, if you reciprocate these feelings, or if you believe that you could perhaps learn to care for me too, then I would like to begin courting you, with the intention of marrying you, and making you my partner in all things.”

Nie Mingjue releases Meng Yao’s hands, giving him the space to think. Meng Yao’s shock gives way to Jin Guangyao’s sweet, tender pleasure, as he sits back on his heels and offers Nie Mingjue a sad smile.

“Unfortunately, if you had asked me back then — even in such a lovely way — I likely would have said no,” he says.

“You wanted to win your father’s favour,” Nie Mingjue mutters, folding his arms.

Jin Guangyao’s smile widens, curling in amusement, and he reaches out a hand to worm between Nie Mingjue’s folded arms to tangle their fingers together. Nie Mingjue can’t maintain any kind of crossness, even pretend, after the way they’ve spent the evening and immediately gives in to the affection.

“Sadly, I didn’t know that he wasn’t worth the dirt under my boots back then,” Jin Guangyao says. “But… I know now. You said you prefer me now, and I think… I do, as well. Things are so different, and while I can’t lead the Nie with you we can, perhaps- one day- if it suits us all-” Jin Guangyao bites back a frustrated huff at getting so tangled up in his thoughts, especially considering the way the rest of the evening has gone. It’s silly to still be so shy and unsure after all of that, isn’t it?

“A-Yao?”

Jin Guangyao drags Nie Mingjue’s hand across the table to use it to cover his own eyes, leaning forward on his elbows and nuzzling into the comforting dry warmth of his palm to find the courage to mumble, “Marriage, at least in our hearts if not in the eyes of the world, is not an impossibility… if you still wish for it, that is.”

Nie Mingjue is silent for a small eternity that lasts at least an entire age of the earth, or maybe just a few heartbeats too long, there’s no real way of knowing. Jin Guangyao carefully separates two of Nie Mingjue’s fingers to peek between them and finds his partner smirking at him, as smug as he’s ever seen him after a particularly difficult hunt or a truly excellent political manoeuvre, and Jin Guangyao drops his hand like it burned him only for Nie Mingjue to snatch his back up with a laugh, more relief than anything by the sound of it.

“If I still wish for it, hm?” Nie Mingjue teases with a quick dry (somewhat scratchy) peck of a kiss to his knuckles. “My Meng-fushi, our Lianfang–zun, will surely be diligent in planning whatever contracts and ceremonies would suit us all at the appropriate time. I hardly think Xichen will object, and I definitely won’t either.”

“Right.” Jin Guangyao blinks a few times and decides that after everything he actually can’t… entirely… wrap his head around that at the moment. He thinks for a moment of being married, of both being a husband and having one — two! — and feels like he maybe needs to lie down for a while. He’d brought it up, at least as more than a hypothetical bout of wishful reminiscing, and he would also like to pack that thought far away for the time being.

“Right! Well. This was a very successful evening in the end, I suppose, all things considered. Will, ah… will I still hunt down one of your robes for the rest of the night or shall I keep wearing my own? I’ll just- the wardrobe-” he starts to stand, hand still caught in Nie Mingjue’s, but he’s kept from fleeing by said grip.

“A-Yao?”

“Mingjue.”

“It’s late — at this time of night, what makes you think you’re meant to wear anything in my bed?”

The question startles him into laughter, a little manic and quickly stifled behind his free hand, but Nie Mingjue just smirks at him again and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist before he lets him go. He doesn’t escape to the wardrobe, however, instead just turning towards the bed and glancing over his shoulder at Nie Mingjue as he drops the first layer of his robes over the privacy screen between the bed and the rest of the room.

“Well, Nie-zongzhu?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t stifle his laughter as Nie Mingjue stumbles up from his seat to chase after him, straight across the room, behind the screen, and all the way into bed.

#the untamed fanfic #NieYao #3zun #you know the deal by now #It's just nieyao here but LXC is very much still part of this dynamic from afar #The Waves Are Rising and Rising #Extra Scene

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