[ Good boy, Yingxing whispers, and oh Dan Heng loves and hates what it does to him when he does, the way his lips part in a whimper, the way his used cunt flutters, inviting him further. He's so sure that outside of the bedroom, he'd find the phrase insulting, and yet in bed there's something about it that stirs him, that makes him crave more of it.

And—speaking of craving—

His head slumps further back in response to the other's movements, the way he's shifted and spread open on the bed, and his lips tremble against Yingxing's mouth, the answer coming to him faster than he could have imagined it would—the willingness, too, to speak such words, driven by the need still aching, burning— ]

I need it, Yingxing, I—fuck, I need you so much, please... please don't make me wait anymore, fucking... fill me up, make me yours. Ruin—ruin me for anyone else. Breed me—