houseofsushi | lan sizhui ♪ the untamed (open post)

He draws himself to his full height when Sizhui seemingly slinks over to where he is.

"Until you get bored."

He is stony faced when he says this. Jiang Cheng then frowns deeply when he considers that Sizhui seemed shocked at the aftercare and crosses his arms and looking at him in the eyes. Someone like Sizhui could be easily taken advantage of if they aren't guided through the world with a particularly understanding Dom--No. No, he should not even entertain the idea. Jiang Cheng stands firm.

"Go back to your dorm. Take a shower. Put on your comfiest pajamas. Have the cup of tea," he says firmly.

That makes him giggle, an amused, airy little thing which hardly qualifies as a laugh while he lifts one hand and gently taps Jiang Cheng's chin.

“Give yourself – and me! – some credit, professor. I'm not so easily deterred.”

He can't speak for Jiang Cheng, but from what he can tell, the man is far more interested than he's letting on. Sizhui slides the blanket from his shoulders, dragging it deliberately over the side of his neck, well-aware it'll rub off some of the perfume lingering there, then he reaches out and tosses the fabric over Jiang Cheng's shoulders, settling the ends against his chest. He drops flat back onto his feet after, does a neat heel-turn, goes to collect his discarded bag along with the sweatshirt that'd been dropped onto the floor during their activities.

Once he's resituated, hoodie back on and the bag over his shoulder, Sizhui removes a bottle, gives himself a quick spritz or two before placing the item back into one of the outer pockets on the satchel and heading toward the door. It's tugged open and, “As you wish,” is what he says, but following a brief pause and a half-lidded glance over his shoulder, “Daddy.” Then he slips out, making sure to close the door behind him.

Jiang Cheng drives home horny. He goes into the shower immediately and jerks himself off, coming in record time as he replays what they had done in his office again and again in his head.

Daddy.

Fuck. That’s what sends him over the edge and gasping. He curses himself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s Wei Wuxian’s student. He’s so much younger. He’s ... fuck, isn’t he also Wangji’s son too? Fuck.

But all his mind helpfully supplied is the look of bliss on his face when Sizhui was told to come, fantasy helpfully filling in Sizhui moaning Daddy. as he comes. Fuck.

And Sizhui returns to his dorm, floating on cloud nine the entire way, red-faced and giddy.

Jingyi, of course, notices his rapturous state, does everything within his power to pry an answer out of his friend, though to no avail. He flutters about while humming delightedly, collecting his shower stuff, clean pajamas, flipping on the electric kettle with its automatic timer, which will allow him plenty of time to wash up and get dressed.

By the time he returns, his roommate is deep in some video game, grumbling into the mic of his headset. Thank goodness, Sizhui sighs, twisting his hair up as his tea steeps. He collects the mug once it's finished, disappears into his bottom bunk with it, thoughts on Jiang Cheng the whole time he drinks. He drifts the emptier his cup gets, somehow manages setting it aside before he actually dozes off, only awakened by the abrupt sound of Jingyi dropping into the bunk above him.

His attention flickers up, considering, then he glances at the clock with faint astonishment. He can't remember the last time he'd fallen asleep so easily and offhandedly wonders if Jiang Cheng is still awake while eyeing his phone from his peripheral. But no, he shouldn't... should he?

He shouldn’t. He doesn’t have Jiang Cheng’s number after all. As far as he was concerned, after Sizhui had conquered him, then that was the end of it despite what the young man had said. He convinces himself that it was a nice memory. That’s all.

Through the week, he treats Sizhui no differently than he had before. Jingyi failed his paper as Jiang Cheng expected. But then Friday rolls around, and he’s packing up his things at the end of the day, wondering why Wei Wuxian even bothers to pay rent for their shared apartment if he stays over at Wangji’s place all the time anyway.

When there is a knock on his door, he heaves a deep sigh. Why.

“This better be important,” he barks out.

No, he doesn't unfortunately, but that isn't stopping him from asking Jingyi, perhaps sending a text to Jin Ling about needing it for class reasons or messaging Wei Wuxian in a whole other attempt. But for now, he lets it be, crashes again shortly thereafter, patiently waits for the end of the week to roll around.

Once it does, Sizhui finishes up early, makes an excuse to his friend group, promises to meet up with them later for whatever they have planned, and makes his way toward Jiang Cheng's office. Today, he's clad in an oversized white cardigan, matching knit pants and a super-soft, high-necked pink bodysuit that's stayed mostly covered throughout the day. As he approaches the door, however, he undoes the few buttons, lets the sweater swing open at the ends when he reaches to knock.

‘This better be important!’ comes from behind it and with a cheeky little grin, Sizhui's hand lowers to the doorknob so he can let himself in.

“Depends on what you consider important, professor Jiang.” Oh, yes, flirt mode set at maximum.

He finishes putting his things away even as the door opens and, of all fucking people, it's Lan Sizhui that lets himself into his office. Jiang Cheng locks up his messenger bag and slings the strap onto his shoulder.

"And what, exactly, is the issue that you just need to discuss with me right after office hours are over, young master Lan?" he asks. "Shouldn't you be out with your friends? It's a friday night."

Damn if Sizhui doesn't look like some kind of wrapped up cupcake. Or candy piece. No. He mentally shakes his head of the thoughts and looks like he's not going to let Sizhui sit down and do...whatever it is. If there is anything. If the young man tries to come after him about something, use last week as a sort of leverage for failing his friend, he's got another thing coming.

His elbow pushes the door shut behind him and he leans against it, head absently tilted, gaze unashamedly sweeping over Jiang Cheng while he continues what he's doing. How is it he can look so effortlessly handsome while doing almost nothing at all? Mmn. It makes Sizhui's shoulders roll with anticipation and they haven't even done anything.

Yet.

“Ah, well, I told them I was busy with something else at the moment.” He pushes off the door, makes a beeline toward the older man, shoulders squared, arms tucked loosely behind his back. “My issue is that I've had something on my mind this entire week. Something I can't seem to shake from my thoughts.”

Because when he essentially told Jiang Cheng he wouldn't get bored, he meant that. Nothing to do with Jingyi's grade or him trying to help his friend out; it has everything to do with him wanting more of what they'd done only a few days ago. Sizhui stops an arms-length away, briefly bridges that distance by reaching out, catching the end of Jiang Cheng's tie, winding it between his first two fingers and giving a little tugtugtug. “See, I was curious... what might we be able to do with proper privacy?”

"Just what the hell are you implying?" he asks lowly when Sizhui seems so determined to get into his personal space.

He absolutely does not jerk forward when Sizhui pulls him by his tie. He unwinds the maroon material from his long fingers and tugs his tie back, straightening and clearing his throat. He fixes his tie again and levels Sizhui with a hard stare. It's a trap. It has to be a trap. There's security cameras around the campus for the safety of the students. And the campus actually does close down at certain points of the night. Jiang Cheng hadn't told security that he would be pulling late hours today.

He chuckles softly, lets the tie be removed from his hold, tucks the arm behind himself again and straightens even further. The smile on his face fades though, replaced with something more serious, something like determination mixed with an odd air of sensibility.

Jiang Cheng scowls and Sizhui holds firm, tilts his chin up, leaving very little distance between their faces, much like he'd done the last time they'd seen each other; just enough room to tease, to let a sugar-tainted sigh pass between them. While most of the cameras are set in places where there aren't many blind spots, he knows quite well what areas to cut through to avoid the most obvious activity, and if anyone were to see them, he's got the perfect excuse: his guardian lives with Jiang Cheng, which is obviously who he'd be going to visit. Expression still steeled, he questioningly lifts an eyebrow and asks in the coyest manner he can muster. “What do you think I'm implying?” Although he doesn't wait for an answer before continuing in a lower murmur, “Take me home with you, Jiang Cheng.”

He would bark out a laugh if he didn't see how serious Sizhui seems to be. Fine. Two can play at this game. He walks back to his desk, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

"Whatever it is you're implying, I am not interested. We have very strict rules here at Cloud Recesses University. A code of conduct that students and their faculty must uphold. Your friend is only able to earn the grade he has earned because of what he has submitted," he snaps loudly. He hands the piece of paper to Sizhui, bearing his address. "You're keeping me from starting my own goddamn weekend. No amount of begging or pleading can change my mind on the matter. Now get the hell out of my office!"

Sizhui's features do waver this time, a mixture of confusion and curiosity as both eyebrows hike toward his hairline. Though he doesn't move from where he's standing, he shifts somewhat, trying to see what exactly Jiang Cheng's doing at his desk.

Before he can open his mouth and protest, insist that he's not here for that once again, Jiang Cheng holds the paper out, causing him to glance down at it, a slow smirk curving his mouth when he realizes it's an address. He playfully snatches the sheet from his hand, tucks it into the pocket of his sweater, politely inclines his head. “Yes, sir.” Then he does as told, heads back toward the door and hurries out into the hallway. On the way back to his dorm, it's difficult to keep himself under wraps, excitement flaring, his heartbeat jackhammering so hard, he's almost afraid it might crack a rib.

The note also said to be at the address at nine promptly.

Jiang Cheng takes the blessedly empty apartment opportunity to clean it up a little, not that Wei Wuxian ever stayed there for more than a few minutes when Wangji was doing overnight shifts. It had been a while. He's going to sit Sizhui down. Tell him absolutely not. That last time was a lapse in judgement and it's not going to happen again. Not to them, not ever again. There were so many rules, so many things that scream out wrong, wrong wrong.

That's what he's going to tell Sizhui. Firmly.

A couple hours is more than enough time for him to get ready and arrive at Jiang Cheng's apartment promptly.

And ‘getting ready’ doesn't include much, just a quick change of clothes into a comfortable pullover and some skin-tight jeans with a little something underneath. He dabs his lips with red-tinted cherry lipgloss, tugs all his hair back into a messy updo then heads out without any more interruptions. However, once Sizhui arrives, he does momentarily linger at the door, second-guessing how he's planning to move forward with this. It could get them both into a whole helluva lot of trouble, but that's only if someone finds out, right?

Right. After a quick, steadying breath, he draws a hand from his pocket and raps his knuckles against the door. Nobody has to know, he reminds himself, much like he'd done to Jiang Cheng before.

He opens the door, having dressed down from work. Jiang Cheng is just in dark grey slacks and the maroon button down today with the sleeves rolled up to his upper forearms and the first few buttons unbuttoned. He doesn't say a word and steps aside to let Sizhui in. He shuts the door behind the young man. Firm, Jiang Cheng. You've got to be firm.

"Young master Lan, there are a lot of rules at Cloud Recesses," he begins.

The door swings open and Sizhui's mouth is immediately dry at the sight before him; Jiang Cheng, dressed far more comfortably, though no less attractive in his slacks and deep purplish-red buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled. Thank Gods, the man moves aside so he can hurry inside, swallowing thickly in an attempt to clear the sudden golfball-sized lump trying to suffocate him. What the hell is it about rolled sleeves, anyway?

He makes a show of glancing around, back still turned to Jiang Cheng, at least until he starts talking. “I know,” comes the as-a-matter-of-fact response. “But we aren't there right now, are we?” And as he asks, he turns to face him, both hands curled in his sweater, barely tugging the hem up off his waist.

He remains unmoved. Jiang Cheng leans against the closed door, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching Sizhui.

"We're not. But I hold myself up to that same code of ethics. If anyone found out, I would be fired. You'd be expelled. That's just the surface. Hell, someone could sue me for thinking that I seduced you and none of this is consensual."

He runs a hand through his hair. Damnit.

He's very nearly revealing the pretty little flowers hidden underneath his clothes, and yet he hesitates at the sight of Jiang Cheng's nervousness. Both arms fall back to Sizhui's sides, head faintly tilting, his own expression creasing with concern.

“Jiang Cheng,” he starts, moving toward him, hands firmly glued beside his hips despite the ever-present urge to touch him. “For one, I will never, ever say that what we're doing isn't consensual. No matter how terrible a fight we could possibly have, that can ruin someone's life, even more so than you getting fired and myself getting expelled.”

Keeping distance between them that's still respectable, Sizhui straightens further, making certain to meet Jiang Cheng's eyes the whole time when he speaks, “What happened back in your office, nobody will know, I swear to you.” A beat before he continues, undeterred. “And whatever we do here, if we do anything, it won't leave the apartment. This doesn't have to be anything more than the two of us meeting up and just. Relieving some stress, okay?” Another brief pause and his hands slip into the pockets of his sweatshirt. “But if you aren't comfortable, I'll leave and we can act like nothing ever happened because I won't force you into something you don't want, either.”

He lets a heartbeat's worth of silence hang between them. Another. Then another.

This is a bad idea. This has bad idea and lawsuit written all over it. This has him losing his tenure, his position, his standing anywhere to be employable as a professor. He looks into Sizhui's eyes - eager, confident, wanting. He's not under 18. He's somewhere in his twenties.

"...there are ground rules that we need to set," he says. "It's clear from the last time, you've just read about a lot of things on the internet and haven't had a real experience with a Dom." He curses quietly and runs a hand through his hair. "All right, make yourself comfortable."

His pulse is racing, he can feel it; the dull throb at his wrists, the whoosh of blood in his ears, his throat tightening more and more by the minute. Yet Sizhui still holds firm, eye-contact never breaking, a steady reminder that he's absolutely, one-hundred-percent serious about this.

Perhaps if he were younger, it'd be extra taboo, but he's twenty-two now. Plenty old enough to make his own decisions and far above the legal age limit of consent without it being too questionable.

Again, he exhales a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, unable to stop a pleased grin from coming across his face, circumstances aside. “You're right.” Both about ground rules and him only knowing what he does because of the internet. Sizhui's hands slide from his pockets as he heads toward the couch, resting flat across his thighs once he's perched himself on the cushion, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, prepared to listen. “I'm ready to know more, though.”

What is he doing? Why is he doing this? He watches as Sizhui practically bounces over to the couch and eager as anything to hear what he has to say. Jiang Cheng breathes through it and makes his way over, sitting on the ottoman in front of it, looking at Sizhui. He rests his elbows on his knees and watches him carefully.

"You need to tell me what you are not comfortable with, what you want to explore, and what you feel your limits are. I will push those limits here and there. You also will need both a word and a motion to tell me that you need to stop. You can use stop. Or we can use the light system; red to stop and you're not okay, yellow to tell me that you're starting to feel uncomfortable, and green to let me know you want to keep going."

Is it because it's something they both want and, as two able-bodied adults who are capable of making their own decisions, maybe need to relieve the stress of daily life every now and then? He curls his fingers into his palms, rubs his fists against his thighs, attempting to curb the eagerness he has to reach out and pull Jiang Cheng closer.

“Well... there's the more obvious, disgusting stuff? And I don't want too much pain, don't want to be cut, don't want to be beaten. Otherwise, I'm pretty open to a lot of things and have always considered myself to be experimental.” He hums thoughtfully, considers the options that are being offered. “The light system could work, although I'm unsure what you mean by motion. Like, if I can't talk, I need a gesture instead?”

He nods.

"If you can't talk, and you might not be able to for one reason or another, you can use a gesture. Or we can have you hold onto something and you can drop it as a signal to me that you are not okay," he replies. "You're putting your trust in me. Therefore it's my job to make sure that you are properly looked after. You need to know and remember that, even in a dominant submissive scene, you are the one that is in control. Do you understand?"

‘You might not be able to for one reason or another.’

Oh, Sizhui can think of a few reasons, all of which make his ears flush hotly, but one in particular that makes him bite his tongue so he doesn't say anything inappropriate. This is supposed to be serious, after all, and if he's doing that kinda thing, he's not paying attention. He bobs his head in agreement, shifting despite using every ounce of willpower to remain unmoving. “I understand. Perhaps a gesture, then? I don't know if I trust myself to not drop something on accident in the heat of the moment.”

He nods and raises his right hand, curling his ring and pinky finger in, placing his thumb over the ring finger. His forefinger and middle finger stay close together.

"Use this. As soon as I see you do this, I stop everything and we go straight to aftercare. Can you make this hand signal?"

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