[ Oh. Oh. There's something to be learned from those moans, from the way Yingxing's muscles twitch and jump under his touch, and Dan Heng is dutiful in the way he files them in his thoughts, making sure he remembers for later where each sweet spot is, where the other seems to be the most sensitive.
(He wonders, too, how sensitive his cock would be to touch, or even to his mouth—The shudder that passes through him at that brief thought is visceral, and he groans.)
Even with that image in his mind, though, it's easy to fall into a steady pace, hips moving against Yingxing's as each of those thrusts presses deep within him, spilling some of their shared fluids in anticipation of more, body moving against body in smooth, unhurried bliss.
He answers the low call of his name with a sigh, the admission of pleasure with a deliberate grind of his hips, his breath trembling on his mouth as he does. ]
no subject
(He wonders, too, how sensitive his cock would be to touch, or even to his mouth—The shudder that passes through him at that brief thought is visceral, and he groans.)
Even with that image in his mind, though, it's easy to fall into a steady pace, hips moving against Yingxing's as each of those thrusts presses deep within him, spilling some of their shared fluids in anticipation of more, body moving against body in smooth, unhurried bliss.
He answers the low call of his name with a sigh, the admission of pleasure with a deliberate grind of his hips, his breath trembling on his mouth as he does. ]
You—you too, Yingxing. You feel so good in me...