Han Xin's lips curled into a feral smile of his own. He leaned down, crashing his mouth onto Xiang Yu's. The kiss was deep and desperate from the first second.
Xiang Yu's mouth opened for him without hesitation, and Han Xin's tongue plunged in, tasting the familiar, addictive flavor that was uniquely Xiang Yu. It was wet, it was hot, and the slick, filthy sounds of their kissing seemed to echo off the walls, a lewd soundtrack to their hunger.
Han Xin's free hand came up, tangling in the hair at the nape of Xiang Yu's neck, holding him steady as he plundered his mouth. He could feel Xiang Yu's hardness against his own stomach, a firm, insistent pressure. He needed more.
He ground his hips forward, a rough, unsubtle roll of his pelvis that made the silk of their pants rub together. A dampness, his own pre-cum, bloomed on the fabric, a sticky confession of his need.
