[he's a trembling mess under him before long, whining and pressing kisses down his neck in an effort to avoid the heat of his gaze--it's too much, and he doesn't know what to do with it as he's steadily worked open in a way that he had never thought possible. Lan Wangji can hear his name in the times that Wei Wuxian is silent, in the empty Lan Zhan that doesn't come after a gasp, in the way that his lips move across his skin. the jerky rocking of his hips gets more insistent as he starts to fuck himself back onto his fingers; under his dedicated ministrations he opens up, loose and slick with oil]