Ah, but you see. I'm a wicked man with an ulterior motive. I've practically scaled Gusu Lan's walls to steal away a precious gem they were hiding within.
( It doesn't matter that he was invited, that he was let in, the narrative of a burglary amuses him far more than anything else and he is naturally a mischievous storyteller. His fingers splay, heavy at Lan Xichen's waist before they walk playfully up the shape of his sternum, his broad chest, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as Wen Kexing peers at him through lowered eyelashes. He finds that there is something novel about the promise of strength between those pale blue robes, it isn't usually what he looks for when he takes men to bed. But he is sure, were this a struggle, Lan Xichen would give as good as he got, would put up a fight that might prove invigorating. He wouldn't win, of course, if only because the Ghost Valley Master knows how to do things that pleasant, behaved young men like Lan Xichen don't. He likes the promise of it though, the hint of muscle when he presses even closer, moving to cup the side of his throat with a broad palm, thumb tracing the sharpness of his jaw.
His shark like smile widens as he leans in, breath ghosting over the shape of Lan Xichen's mouth before he moves to the other side of his throat, tongue dragging a line over what little skin is exposed. He's been half hard since all of this started, and he makes the other man aware of it now, rolling his hips against Lan Xichen's own with a pleased, indulgent hum. )
Bed? I recall promising to show you the shape of my mouth wrapped firmly around your cock. ( It's crass, and he knows it, words turned sly and daring, the picture of a gentleman with the mouth of a degenerate. ) I plan to make you weak in the knees, so I'd rather you start comfortable.
no subject
( It doesn't matter that he was invited, that he was let in, the narrative of a burglary amuses him far more than anything else and he is naturally a mischievous storyteller. His fingers splay, heavy at Lan Xichen's waist before they walk playfully up the shape of his sternum, his broad chest, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as Wen Kexing peers at him through lowered eyelashes. He finds that there is something novel about the promise of strength between those pale blue robes, it isn't usually what he looks for when he takes men to bed. But he is sure, were this a struggle, Lan Xichen would give as good as he got, would put up a fight that might prove invigorating. He wouldn't win, of course, if only because the Ghost Valley Master knows how to do things that pleasant, behaved young men like Lan Xichen don't. He likes the promise of it though, the hint of muscle when he presses even closer, moving to cup the side of his throat with a broad palm, thumb tracing the sharpness of his jaw.
His shark like smile widens as he leans in, breath ghosting over the shape of Lan Xichen's mouth before he moves to the other side of his throat, tongue dragging a line over what little skin is exposed. He's been half hard since all of this started, and he makes the other man aware of it now, rolling his hips against Lan Xichen's own with a pleased, indulgent hum. )
Bed? I recall promising to show you the shape of my mouth wrapped firmly around your cock. ( It's crass, and he knows it, words turned sly and daring, the picture of a gentleman with the mouth of a degenerate. ) I plan to make you weak in the knees, so I'd rather you start comfortable.