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“My Shimei is so cruel,” Wei Wuxian whines, tongue slipping over Jiang Cheng’s collarbone and sucking a deep bruise into the skin. Jiang Cheng can’t stop the moan that exits her mouth - loud, wanton, unrestrained - and flushes, eyes drifting over to the barely closed mouth of the door of their room.
“Cruel? As if such things have any affect on you,” She hisses, meeting the smirk stretched across Wei Wuxian’s face with her snarl. Her Shijie’s dark hair runs like a river over her back, dripping past her shoulders and brushing against Jiang Cheng’s chest and shoulders in a way that makes her shudder. When she leans down again, this time, Wei Wuxian’s lips are hot and insistent, not giving her the option of refusing the kiss.
Wei Wuxian’s tongue brushes against Jiang Cheng’s lips - Jiang Cheng growls into where their mouths meet and forces her body up off the mattress, shoving Wei Wuxian back until she’s straddling her legs instead of her chest. The ropes which tie her hands to her back make her shoulders ache; they chafe against her wrist, and the pain is biting. She groans, and Wei Wuxian laughs into her mouth, breaking away to dig fingers into Jiang Cheng’s sweaty, tangled hair and smile at her with that dashing, heroic charm that’s as familiar as their childhood home.
It’s almost enough to offset where they are - the stalagmites which creep from the cold cave walls around them, lit crimson by the fucking blood pool in the corner. Why the hell there’s a blood pool, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know - but then, there’s a lot of things she no longer knows about her Shijie.
“Of course not,” Wei Wuxian whispers, and it drips against the cave walls like the water droplets clicking against stone around them. “And when has something like this ever stopped me?”
No , thinks Jiang Cheng, and closes her eyes. Wei Wuxian’s body is all sharp angles and dead-tinted hues, frigid as ice when her fingers slip between Jiang Cheng’s legs. It’s humiliating, how wet she is already - just from having Wei Wuxian here, on top of her, looking at her. Even after-
“Nothing can stop you,” says Jiang Cheng, and it hurts her lips with the way it cuts them. “Not even-”
She chokes; the words die in her throat, and it burns, it burns.
She can’t breathe. Her nose and mouth both feel muffled, the smell musty and stale and salty from sweat and sex. Her head spins; she gasps into the mattress as Wei Wuxian presses her face down further, harder, blood rushing in her ears and chest tight, hot. The rest of her body must ache, too, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel it; not with the way Wei Wuxian’s eyes feel against her, flickering with madness that sears.
“I stopped,” says Wei Wuxian, and it sounds almost like a plea. It should scare Jiang Cheng. All of this should scare her; Yanli’s body falling in front of her, his blood soaking her palms; waking up like this, in a cave in the middle of a mountain which seeps resentment and despair down to the core, in the middle of a group of people who destroyed her Sect; waking up to Wei Wuxian, who had once been her handmaid and something like a sister and had once coached her though her first time with a hand over her lips to keep her from making too much sound, and who had now killed her sister in law and might as well have killed their brother.
Waking up to Wei Wuxian over her, lips as familiar as old clothes and the Zidian which was still on her finger, eyes fractured like a broken mirror and expressions tipping somewhere between familiarity and insanity.
“You didn’t,” says Jiang Cheng, and keens when Wei Wuxian dips her finger in further; then she adds a second, without warning, and it aches and it burns and it feels so, so good as Wei Wuxian scissors her open, quick and harsh, blood still streaked across her face where it hadn’t yet faded from sweat and tears.
Her Shijie doesn't stop there; Wei Wuxian could never. Could never exist if she wasn’t pushing some limit, driving someone as far as they could go until they snapped and driving the world as far away from her as possible until they turned on her. Her mouth finds Jiang Cheng’s breast and she sucks at her nipple, tongue circling and sending a rush through Jiang Cheng’s body; paired with the heat coursing through her from between her legs it’s almost enough to make her white out, lightheaded and dizzy with pleasure and pain. Jiang Cheng can’t stop the sounds spewing from her lips; what she can do is dig her nails into her palms and hiss,
“If you’d stopped we both wouldn’t be here. If you’d stopped you would have fucking listened to me before-”
“I’ve got a better idea,” says Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng can’t breathe suddenly with how full her cunt feels.
Her Shijie has abandoned any mask of gentleness to the motions; Jiang Cheng opens her mouth to spit accusations and Wei Wuxian fingers her, leaves her gasping and wailing with her hands tied behind her back and a dead brother and a niece who’s an infant and a Sect she’s now responsible for and now she is, isn’t she? With her brother gone and her niece so young, she needs to get up, she needs to lead them, she needs to dig her nails into the woman who destroyed everything and rip her apart until she’s gone and she wishes that she wanted to. She wishes that she wanted to reverse their positions, that she wanted to heave herself atop Wei Wuxian and claw and tear at her skin until her nails met bone and pick her flesh from her ribs until her heart stopped beating. She wishes, she wants, she hates herself, and Jiang Cheng hates herself because she has never been able to hate Wei Wuxian and the evidence leaks from between her legs, leaves the room filled with wails and squelches and when she comes, when she comes, for a second Jiang Cheng thinks she’s going to pass out when Wei Wuxian just keeps going.
“Stop,” Jiang Cheng snarls, whispers, and it sounds like standing across this same cave with Wei Wuxian opposite to her and the corpse that would be her undoing behind her and begging for answers she never gave her and never has. It sounds like standing across a battlefield and watching Yanli throw himself in front of a blade for the same woman who had lost control of her corpses to begin with and the same woman who had killed his wife. It sounds like-
“God, Jiang Cheng, you’re so stiff; it’s like you can’t ever calm down,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes dark, “Eyes up here, come on, I’m sure you can manage it.”
“Wei Wuxian,” says Jiang Cheng, and she’s not sure what she’s going to say after, “Wei Wuxian-”
“That’s such a lovely name, I wonder what beautiful maiden it belongs to?” Wei Wuxian’s fingers curl in Jiang Cheng’s cunt; it sends sparks through her vision despite the overstimulation and she keens, ropes digging deep into the flesh of her wrists. Wei Wuxian’s hand slips from between her legs in the same breath as the other arm joins it, both coming to dig her nails into Jiang Cheng’s shoulders to pull her into a bruising, harsh kiss which only leaves her more unable to breathe when her Shijie groups at her breasts, rolling Jiang Cheng’s nipple between her fingernails.
The cave is cold around them; the Burial Mounds are still and the silence is only unbroken by the grunts of their breaths and the sound of skin against skin. There are other Wen Remants around, outside the cave, but Jiang Cheng can’t see any; can’t hear any; can’t think of any, can’t think without red-hot rage and despair clouding her vision when she opens her eyes to Wei Wuxian, dark hair like shadowed silk and tangled like a spider’s web and how Jiang Cheng cannot stop the need which courses through her body, can’t stop the relief that comes with the way that Wei Wuxian shoves her head down into the short, coarse hair of her pussy and rasps,
“Now, I know just how well you can use that tongue for me.”
“Fuck off,” snarls Jiang Cheng into the wet heat of Wei Wuxian’s folds, “fuck off and listen- ”
Wei Wuxian’s hands tangle in Jiang Cheng’s hair and her scalp stings. She shoves Jiang Cheng into her pussy, into her, until the entire world is enveloped in nothing else, and Jiang Cheng can’t think.
It’s familiar, to let the vibrations of sobs and moans run through her mouth to Wei Wuxian’s cunt; familiar to twist her tongue, to lick and suck until she can feel Wei Wuxian above her groaning, “God, god, god, make it stop, make it stop,” and Jiang Cheng doesn’t stop; she keeps going. It feels almost satisfying to hear her Shijie above her, crying out the same things Jiang Cheng has been wishing of her for years, and to ignore them. It’s almost satisfying until Wei Wuxian says,
“Good, good, see, we don’t have to think about any of that,” and the taste of her sours. It curdles. Jiang Cheng feels half sick; half desperate; Wei Wuxian’s hands still hold her between her legs and Jiang Cheng can’t fucking breathe.
She tries to shove back, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t let her. She tries to get up but Wei Wuxian doesn’t let her. She tries to rasp, “It’s all your fucking fault,” but Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to care.
Wei Wuxian’s cunt is hot around her mouth as she eats her out. Hot, and wet, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes sting, and the dampness against her cheeks has nothing to do with that.
Wei Wuxian comes with a moan; it vibrates through Jiang Cheng’s body and leaves her chest heaving, vision spinning as she’s pulled back up by her hair. Wei Wuxian’s eyes are empty, and her smile is cracking at the edges like shattered porcelain, pale and flaking paint.
“There’s a good girl for me,” Wei Wuxian whispers, and Jiang Cheng thinks about the feeling of her Golden Core being carved out and ripped away from her body and thinks, always for you. Always for you. Why can’t I make myself hate you?
“I hate you,” says Jiang Cheng, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t release her hands where they’re bound beneath her back when she pulls her into a kiss.