“Xiaokai—” But Xiaokai was kissing him again, furious, and his lips tasted like blood but they slotted against Weiran’s mouth like they were molded to be there. He kissed Weiran, his tongue sliding in and moving against Weiran’s teeth, his hands winding up in Weiran’s hair and behind his neck—he kissed Weiran until Weiran couldn’t breathe, and then he broke away and mouthed at Weiran’s neck.

“Xiaokai, slow down—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

He still hadn’t caught the breath that kiss had stolen from him. He was frozen in place and one of the most beautiful men Weiran had ever met was right above him again—straddling him now, his legs on either side of Weiran’s hips—and he knew what he should say, but he also knew what he wanted to say. “No,” he said. “Keep—keep going.”

Xiaokai abandoned his neck and went downward. He sucked bruises onto Weiran’s collarbones, his mouth as hot as fire. He tasted Weiran like he was starving. “When was the last time you took a shower?”

“Before bed, I—ngh—X—Xiao—”

He ripped apart Weiran’s shirt and dragged his tongue across Weiran’s chest.

“X—ah—”

“Tell me it’s okay.” Xiaokai was suddenly eye-level again, murmuring that familiar question directly into Weiran’s ear with a voice that was throaty and low. “Tell me you want me.” The hand that had been hooked around the back of his neck slid down, tracing a line over his shoulder, across his chest, down his stomach until he was just below Weiran’s naval.

“I—” Weiran’s words broke off into a shudder when the hand slid even lower, just skimming over the fabric of his pants, feather-light. “I—god—”

Xiaokai’s tongue flickered out and touched Weiran’s ear.

“I want—I want you to—”

“To what?” His voice had lowered even further, almost a growl. “Do you want me to suck your dick?”

“I—hh, yes—”

Xiaokai’s mouth was enveloping him an instant later and white burst in Weiran’s vision. He gasped—he hadn’t even noticed Xiaokai move, hadn’t felt him separate from right next to his ear, hadn’t felt the heat leave—but now that heat felt like it was all around him at once, wet and searing. He hissed and raked his hand through Xiaokai’s hair. He was going to lose it, just like he always did, he really was—the hair he was touching now, the fact that he couldn’t see a face—the fact that even if he did see a face, it would blur—