( Whatever reply he might have given to Lan Xichen's earnest little request is lost when he sinks the last few inches in. Wen Kexing keens, too loud to be polite, spine arching in response, his cock giving a bold twitch between them. For a moment it feels too much, he's too full, too vulnerable, a butterfly pinned beneath the other man's earnestness, breath caught sharp beneath the bones of his ribcage. But it fades with every panting exhale, and eventually he gives himself over to the warm pleasure of it, clenching his hole around the obscene stretch, wet fingers sliding up to grip Lan Xichen by the back the neck. )
Fuck.
( What are words? Where is his poetry? ) You --.
( He ruts down against him, chasing the feeling. There's a prickling heat spreading throughout his body, toes curling, nails digging in to the meat of Lan Xichen's nape. )
See this through properly and I'll do whatever you want.
no subject
Fuck.
( What are words? Where is his poetry? ) You --.
( He ruts down against him, chasing the feeling. There's a prickling heat spreading throughout his body, toes curling, nails digging in to the meat of Lan Xichen's nape. )
See this through properly and I'll do whatever you want.