Chapter Text
By the second year of high school, everyone knew three things.
First, Wei Wuxian was terrifyingly smart. Second, he knew he was terrifyingly smart. And third...He was absolutely unbearable about it.
"You got a ninety-eight?" someone groaned after math class.
Wei Wuxian leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "I know right! Very tragic, lost 2 point for having 'incorrect uniform'. Those 2 points will haunt me every night."
Jiang Cheng groaned frustratingly "You were late! You turned up to class ar the last 15 minutes! How do you even do that?!"
"I wanted to give the rest of you a chance, a head start."
"I studied all night and couldn't even get my beauty sleep, yet i bearly passed! I can't believe you got better score than me Wei-xiong."
Wei Wuxian smirked, "Ehe! What can I say? I'm a genius!"
"You are the worst." They both sighed as one of them rub their temple while the other fanned himself.
Wei Wuxian giggles at their suffering, "I've been told!"
Wei Wuxian was a genius. He wasn't just top of the class, he was captain of the debate team while skipping half of the meetings, somehow friends with nearly everyone, charming enough to sweet-talk teachers into extending deadlines, and good-looking enough that half the school had a crush on him, getting confessions is a weekly occurence for him.
Frankly, arrogance seemed like an occupational hazard.
Across the room, Lan Wangji quietly packed his books. Perfect uniform, grades, attendance, posture. Perfect in everything.
Which, naturally, made him Wei Wuxian’s favorite target.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes locked onto that pristine, unyielding silhouette, and a familiar spark of mischief flared in his chest. He hopped off his desk, sliding past the rows of chairs with the easy, predatory grace of someone who knew the entire room was watching him. He leaned heavily against the edge of Lan Wangji’s desk, deliberately invading his personal space.
"Hey, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian purred, chin resting in his hand. "Hear about the chemistry scores? I missed two points. Devastating, really. I bet you got a perfect hundred, didn't you? Come on, praise me a little for keeping up!"
Lan Wangji didn't even look up as he zipped his pencil case. "Ridiculous."
"Aw, so cold!" Wei Wuxian laughed, turning back to Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, intentionally raising his voice so it echoed across the now-crowded classroom. Other students paused, lingering by the door, sensing the daily entertainment was about to begin.
Wei Wuxian slung an arm around Nie Huaisang’s shoulders, throwing his head back with an arrogant, dazzling grin. "You see this? Our model student is completely devoid of passion. I bet if I dare him to kiss me he would chicken out and run away to his uncle! That goody shoe is way too stuck up! Does he even know how sex works? Or masturbating? Such a repressed freak!"
A few people gasped; Jiang Cheng hissed, "Wei Wuxian, shut the hell up!"
But Wei Wuxian just preened, practically vibrating under the spotlight of his own popularity, waiting for Lan Wangji to offer his usual stiff, ears-burning 'Shameless!' and storm out.
Instead, the sharp click of Lan Wangji’s locker key echoed through the sudden silence.
Lan Wangji stood up. He was taller than Wei Wuxian, and looking up into those cool, light-colored eyes, Wei Wuxian felt a sudden, weird hitch in his breath. Lan Wangji’s expression was an unreadable, icy mask, but his gaze was locked dead onto Wei Wuxian's lips.
"Bet," Lan Wangji said. His voice was incredibly deep, quiet, and completely steady.
The classroom went dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop.
Wei Wuxian blinked, his arrogant smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before he forced his usual easy laugh back onto his face. "Oh Lan Zhan! It is alright if you don't-"
"I said, bet."
Before Wei Wuxian’s brilliant, genius brain could even process the syllables, Lan Wangji stepped forward. One large, firm hand shot out, wrapping securely around the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck, fingers tangling into the loose hairs there with an aggressive possessiveness that didn't match a 'goody shoe' at all.
Lan Wangji pulled him in.
It wasn't a hesitant, chaste clip of the lips. Lan Wangji crashed his mouth against Wei Wuxian’s with a fierce, pent-up intensity that tasted like mint and absolute exasperation. He pressed Wei Wuxian right back against the desk he had been lounging on, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his thumb pressing firmly into the groove of Wei Wuxian’s jawline to keep him still.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes stretched wide in utter shock. His hands hovered uselessly in the air, his brain completely short-circuiting. The guy who always had a witty comeback, the guy who ruled the school with his sharp tongue and effortless charm, was entirely paralyzed. Lan Wangji’s lips were warm, demanding, and shockingly dominant, drinking in Wei Wuxian’s stunned silence in front of God and everyone.
A collective, deafening screech echoed through the classroom. Nie Huaisang dropped his fan. Jiang Cheng looked like he was having a physical stroke.
When Lan Wangji finally broke the kiss, he didn't look flustered at all. His ears were a bright, furious crimson, but his eyes were blazing with a dark, victorious fire. He adjusted his collar, picked up his perfectly organized backpack, and looked down at the utterly dazed, flushed genius frozen on the desk.
"Not repressed," Lan Wangji murmured, his voice a low, private rumble meant only for him.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the classroom, leaving a completely broken, breathless, and suddenly very humbled Wei Wuxian staring blankly at the door.
The thought looped in his head like a scratched CD, playing over and over on a terrifying, high-speed replay.
Did he just lose his first kiss to Lan fucking Wangji? In public? In front of everyone? Did he just make out with Lan Wangji?
"Wei Wuxian."
Jiang Cheng’s voice didn’t sound human. It sounded like a teapot right before it explodes, a low, vibrating hiss of pure, unadulterated psychological damage.
Wei Wuxian didn’t move. He couldn’t. He was still half-sprawled across the desk, his legs tangling awkwardly, his lips tingling with the unmistakable, lingering taste of expensive mint and raw, unprompted aggression. His hands were still hovering awkwardly in mid-air, fingers twitching.
"Wei-xiong..." Nie Huaisang whispered from somewhere near the floor. He was currently on his knees, staring blankly at his favorite silk fan which had clattered into the dust. "He... you..."
The classroom was a war zone of silent chaos. Two girls in the front row looked like they were trying to communicate via telepathy, their eyes dinner-plate wide. A guy by the lockers had his phone out, staring at the screen with an expression of profound religious awe.
Slowly, the mechanical gears of Wei Wuxian's genius brain, the one that had just solved a university level advanced calculus packet during lunch for fun, tried to reboot.
"He..." Wei Wuxian started, but his voice cracked horribly on the syllable. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to summon his usual swagger, to laugh it off, to make a joke about how Lan Zhan’s technique was just a solid six out of ten.
Nothing came out. His face was so hot he was fairly certain his skin was emitting actual steam.
"You absolute, colossal, brainless idiot!" Jiang Cheng finally snapped, lunging forward and grabbing Wei Wuxian by the collar of his uniform, shaking him like a ragdoll. "What did you do?! What did you just do?!"
"I didn't do anything!" Wei Wuxian squeaked, finally finding his voice, though it was a solid octave higher than usual. "He's the one who grabbed me! Did you see his hand? He's got a grip like a hydraulic press! I have bruises, Jiang Cheng! I am a victim of assault!"
"You literally asked for it!" Jiang Cheng roared, his face turning an impressive shade of plum. "You stood there, in front of the entire class, and talked about him masturbating!"
"I was just joking and fooling around! I didn't actually mean it?!" Wei Wuxian wailed, finally scrambling off the desk, though his knees felt dangerously like jelly. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, but the action only made his lips feel warmer, reminding him entirely too vividly of the heavy, demanding pressure of Lan Wangji’s mouth.
Not repressed.
The words echoed in his ears. Lan Wangji had actually leaned down and whispered that. In his deep, stupidly attractive voice. Right after rearranging Wei Wuxian’s entire internal anatomy in front of thirty witnesses.
"I need to go," Wei Wuxian blurted out suddenly, shoving his unzipped backpack over his shoulder, books threatening to spill out everywhere.
"Go where?!" Jiang Cheng yelled after him. "Math starts in ten minutes!"
"To the bathroom! To wash my face! To check if I’m awake." Wei Wuxian sprinted for the door, practically tripping over Nie Huaisang’s abandoned fan.
As he burst into the hallway, the cool air did absolutely nothing to lower his body temperature. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He was Wei Wuxian. He was the undisputed shameless guy of this school. He was supposed to be the one flustering people, the one breaking hearts, the one leaving people speechless!
Instead, he was currently running down the corridor, his mind a chaotic, screaming mess of a single, undeniable realization: Lan Wangji was a really, really good kisser. And Wei Wuxian was entirely, utterly screwed.
Wei Wuxian locked himself in the last stall of the second-floor bathroom, dropped his backpack onto the floor, and leaned his forehead against the cold metal door.
His brain, usually a hyperactive engine of brilliant ideas and quick comebacks, was stuck on a loop. And the more he tried to analyze what had just happened, the more his chest tightened in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with panic and everything to do with a sudden, terrifying rush of adrenaline.
He touched his lower lip with his index finger. It felt swollen. Tingling.
He kissed me.
No, scratch that. Lan Wangji didn't just kiss him. Lan Wangji had demolished him.
Wei Wuxian closed his eyes, and suddenly he was back against the edge of that desk. His genius mind, which usually remembered every formula and historical date with photographic clarity, suddenly started playing back the sensory details in agonizing, high-definition slow motion.
The heat. Lan Wangji always looked like an ice sculpture, pristine and untouched by the humid summer air, but his mouth had been scorching. Then, the smell, that crisp, intoxicating mix of mint and whatever expensive, subtle laundry detergent the Lan family used, completely filling Wei Wuxian's senses until he couldn't breathe anything else.
But what truly made Wei Wuxian’s stomach do a violent, dizzying flip was the grip.
Lan Wangji’s hand had been so solid against the back of his neck. It wasn't the tentative, nervous touch of a guy being dared into something. Those long, elegant fingers, the ones that played the guqin and wrote flawless calligraphy, had tangled into Wei Wuxian's hair with a terrifying, heavy authority. He had pulled Wei Wuxian in like he owned him. Like he’d been wanting to do it for a very, very long time.
“Does he even know how sex works? Or masturbating? Such a repressed freak!”
Wei Wuxian let out a weak, pathetic groan into the empty stall, hiding his burning face in his hands. He had really said that. Out loud. To a guy who apparently possessed the lung capacity of an Olympic swimmer and the hidden confidence of a romance novel lead.
When Lan Wangji had tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Wei Wuxian’s knees had genuinely given out. If Lan Wangji hadn't been pinning him so firmly against the desk, Wei Wuxian would have slid right onto the floor like a puddle of jelly. He remembered the brief, devastating slide of Lan Wangji’s tongue against his own, just a single, demanding swipe that had sent an actual electric shock straight down Wei Wuxian's spine, before pulling away.
And that parting murmur. “Not repressed.”
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Wei Wuxian muttered to his own brain, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
He had spent the last two years convinced that Lan Wangji hated his guts. He had spent two years poking the bear, drawing on his notebooks, stealing his pencils, and loudly complaining about how stiff and boring he was, all just to get those beautiful, icy eyes to look at him. He thought he was being a menace. He thought he was the one in control, the puppet master pulling the strings of the school’s golden boy.
But the way Lan Wangji had looked at him right before he walked out, dark, intense, completely unbothered by the screaming chaos of the classroom,
proved otherwise.
Lan Wangji hadn't broken a sweat. Lan Wangji had won.
Unconsciously, his hand reached down and started to rub against his growing bulge.
The realization hit him like a physical blow, his fingers freezing instantly against the fabric of his school trousers.
When did he even get hard?
Wei Wuxian stared blankly at his own lap, his hand still resting over the prominent, aching heat blooming between his thighs. His brain, usually so quick to rationalize anything, completely short-circuited.
He was hard. He was very hard.
And it wasn't just a random, hormonal high school reflex. The heavy, throbbing ache down there was a direct, undeniable reaction to a pristine, rule-following, uniform-wearing honor student named Lan Wangji.
"No, no, no," Wei Wuxian muttered, his voice cracking as he violently yanked his hand away as if he’d just touched a hot stove. He shoved his face into his knees, his entire body trembling from a toxic mix of adrenaline, embarrassment, and an overwhelming wave of sheer arousal.
His mind, entirely betraying him, immediately supplied the answer to his own question.
When?
Probably the exact second Lan Wangji’s large, warm hand had locked around the back of his neck, anchoring him in place. Or maybe it was when Lan Wangji had stepped into his space, towering over him, looking down with those dark, intense eyes that said he was absolutely done playing games. It was the bruising pressure of those lips, the faint taste of mint, and the undeniable, terrifying thrill of being completely dominated by the one person he thought he could always rattle.
Wei Wuxian had spent years thinking he was the one holding all the power, the untouchable genius who teased everyone and left them flustered. But Lan Wangji had just flipped the script, exposed him in front of the entire school, and left him a shivering, turned-on mess in a locked bathroom stall.
“Does he even know how sex works?”
His own arrogant words mocked him now. Lan Wangji clearly knew exactly how it worked, and judging by the friction currently burning through Wei Wuxian's uniform, Lan Wangji was also dangerous enough to make Wei Wuxian forget his own name with a single kiss.
The bell for next period rang loudly through the hallway outside, the shrill sound vibrating through the metal door.
Wei Wuxian let out a pathetic, muffled groan against his knees. The swelling in his trousers wasn't going down anytime soon, his heart was trying to escape his chest, and in exactly five minutes, he was supposed to walk into English class and sit directly next to the guy who did this to him.
He had to deal with this. Quickly.
Wasting no time he pulled his trousers down and took out his cock.
It was hard and throbbing, the tip leaking a bead of pre-cum that smeared against his thumb as he gripped himself. He let out a shaky, desperate breath, the cold air of the bathroom stall hitting his bare thighs and contrasting sharply with the feverish heat radiating from his crotch.
He had to hurry. The hallway outside was already echoing with the slamming of lockers and the hurried footsteps of students rushing to beat the final bell. If he was late to English, the teacher would make a scene, and making a scene right now was the absolute last thing his fragile ego could handle.
Wei Wuxian closed his eyes and began to stroke, his grip tight and unyielding.
He tried to force his mind to think of anything else: chemistry formulas, debate topics, the video game he’d been playing the night before. But his subconscious completely refused to cooperate. The second he increased the pace, his brain locked right back onto Lan Wangji.
The smell of mint.
The crushing weight of Lan Wangji's body pinning him against the wood of the desk.
The rough, possessive friction of their lips moving together.
A ragged gasp escaped Wei Wuxian’s throat, his hips twitching forward into his own hand. It was terrifying how quickly he was reaching the edge. Usually, when he masturbated at night, it was a casual, lazy affair. But right now, fueled by pure adrenaline and the lingering shock of the kiss, his body was responding with an intensity that made his vision blur.
He imagined those long, elegant, calloused fingers wrapping around his cock instead of his neck. He imagined Lan Wangji looking down at him with that same dark, victorious fire in his eyes, commanding him to take it.
"Ah... Lan Zhan..." Wei Wuxian whimpered, the name slipping past his lips before he could stop it.
His thumb rubbed furiously over the swollen head of his cock, his strokes becoming short, frantic, and chaotic. His back arched away from the toilet seat, his free hand gripping the metal latch of the stall door so hard his knuckles turned white. The friction was unbearable, a sweet, agonizing torture that built up in his lower stomach until it completely spilled over.
With a choked, muffled groan into his forearm, Wei Wuxian came, white hot spurts of semen shooting between his fingers and splattering onto the tiled floor and the back of the stall door.
He sat there panting, his chest heaving as his body trembled through the aftershocks. His cock throbbed weakly in his hand, rapidly going soft as the post-nut clarity hit him like a bucket of ice water.
He stared at the mess, then up at the ceiling, his mind utterly blank for a solid three seconds.
I just jacked off to Lan Wangji. In the school bathroom.
The final warning bell rang, loud and unforgiving.
"Fuck!" Wei Wuxian scrambled, tearing off a massive clump of toilet paper to frantically wipe down his hands, his trousers, and the floor. He yanked his boxers and trousers up, buttoning his school uniform with trembling fingers, and grabbed his backpack.
He threw open the stall door, washed his hands at the sink without dare looking at his own flushed reflection, and sprinted out into the hallway, praying that the English teacher hadn't closed the classroom door yet.