Wei Wuxian manages to grip his hair with Lan Wangji's help, fingertips perhaps too blunt against his scalp as he holds on as tightly as he'd held him while flying, his every breath seemingly trapped in his chest and escaping only in broken moans. He's never felt anything as entirely, ceaselessly good as the passage of Lan Wangji's hot mouth working over him, and even so his hips seem to know to hitch upward, seeking even more.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian pleads, not certain what he's asking for but aching for it all the same. "Lan Zhan."