The resistance, the give, the wet, slick sounds of their joining were too vivid. The pleasure was a live wire up his spine, coiling in his gut with every brutal thrust. He pulled Yu Xi upright against his chest, one arm banding around his torso.
Jian Ci's other hand slid up, palming Yu Xi's pec, finding a nipple and pinching it hard between his thumb and forefinger. Yu Xi jolted, a sharp gasp escaping him, his head falling back against Jian Ci's shoulder.
"Fuck, little Xi," Jian Ci rasped, his voice gravelly and unfamiliar even to himself. His hand roamed down, tracing the defined ridges of Yu Xi's abs, feeling the muscles clench and jump under his touch.
He was fucking up into him with steady, deep rolls of his hips, the angle shifting, making Yu Xi whimper. Jian Ci lowered his mouth to the juncture of Yu Xi's shoulder and neck, sucking the salt-damp skin there, tasting him, marking him. He wanted to devour him.
