"Please, Ming Ji—please!" he gasped, voice raw and trembling. "I need it—I need *you* inside me—god, please just take me!"
His hips arched up on their own, chasing friction, chasing anything at all to fill the aching emptiness.
Ming Ji's breath hitched—a rare crack in that perfect control—and for the first time, Jin felt it: *he wasn't the only one losing himself.*
Ming Ji's grip on him tightened, his body pressing harder against his, *claiming* him with every breath. "Damn it, Jin…" he breathed, "I'm trying so *hard* to go slow. But you're so desperate for me, you're driving me *crazy...*"
And he could feel it, that hint of raw need in his voice, the way his body tensed like he was barely hanging on to control.
"You're *perfect,*" he murmured, "and you're *mine*."
The words *slammed* into him like a damn tidal wave, and he couldn't resist anymore.
"Yes—" he gasped "yes, I'm yours—take me! Please, I can't—I'm going to break, I can't—"
