[ in the memories, in the past life, Xue Yang knows that he was never one for rules. that he was never one to listen, obey. he would comply, for a while, when it suited him, but he would not willingly follow what he was told if it did not suit him. and he was much the same in this life.
except for Xingchen.
he would follow Xingchen anywhere, would listen to whatever he asked of him, even if it did not technically serve himself the way he wanted in that moment. so he stills when Xingchen asks it of him, slows himself, tempers himself. he will also allow himself to be unteathered. will let himself be hungry and wanting and too much for anyone else but the man before him. it is so easy for him to laugh, sharp and sudden, when he is told to take Xingchen apart. wants to warn him that he can do that, so so easily, how he knows every place to press to see him shake.
(knows the words to say to see him crumble, knows what he looks like truly broken.)
the kiss swallows the end of his laughter, and Xue Yang bites and nips at Xingchen's lips as he shirt is pulled away, lets his hands slide beneath the soft fabric of the sweater to drag blunt nails against the dip of his hips, leaves trails of pink in the wake of his touch. ]
Anything for you, my sweet.
[ he will shatter Xingchen just as he has asked ("--I can't fix this." echoes but Xue Yang ignores it, focuses on warmth on the skin being bared to him, on--) and then put himself back together with himself in between the cracks. will make him stronger for it.
it takes almost all of his patience to not pin him to the door frame, to watch as Xingchen tugs away the layers without touching. all but shoves his own jeans off haphazardly, eyes fixed an hungry. he waits until Xingchen is bare before he moves, pushes Xingchen to the bed before climbing atop him and kissing him again. wet and messy and nearly devouring, hands pushing and skin like he wants to sink his fingers right to the bone.
hisses something that sounds a lot like 'mine' against his lips.]
:GETS MORE ANGELIC:
except for Xingchen.
he would follow Xingchen anywhere, would listen to whatever he asked of him, even if it did not technically serve himself the way he wanted in that moment. so he stills when Xingchen asks it of him, slows himself, tempers himself. he will also allow himself to be unteathered. will let himself be hungry and wanting and too much for anyone else but the man before him. it is so easy for him to laugh, sharp and sudden, when he is told to take Xingchen apart. wants to warn him that he can do that, so so easily, how he knows every place to press to see him shake.
(knows the words to say to see him crumble, knows what he looks like truly broken.)
the kiss swallows the end of his laughter, and Xue Yang bites and nips at Xingchen's lips as he shirt is pulled away, lets his hands slide beneath the soft fabric of the sweater to drag blunt nails against the dip of his hips, leaves trails of pink in the wake of his touch. ]
Anything for you, my sweet.
[ he will shatter Xingchen just as he has asked ("--I can't fix this." echoes but Xue Yang ignores it, focuses on warmth on the skin being bared to him, on--) and then put himself back together with himself in between the cracks. will make him stronger for it.
it takes almost all of his patience to not pin him to the door frame, to watch as Xingchen tugs away the layers without touching. all but shoves his own jeans off haphazardly, eyes fixed an hungry. he waits until Xingchen is bare before he moves, pushes Xingchen to the bed before climbing atop him and kissing him again. wet and messy and nearly devouring, hands pushing and skin like he wants to sink his fingers right to the bone.
hisses something that sounds a lot like 'mine' against his lips.]