bakerstreet | Soulmates

Xingchen makes a sound like he's had the breath knocked out of him— in a way, he has. Regardless of how gently Xue Yang's tongue delves inside, it drives the air out of his lungs. And when there's no more air, when Xiao Xingchen can't seem to catch his breath despite his own panting, he finds he doesn't mind. If he's to suffocate to death like this, then he's going to make the most of it. One of his legs draws up far enough for him to plant his knee, his hips lifting up and back with an urgency he'd normally consider undignified.

His want leaves him frustrated as he discovers a tongue is too soft of an appendage to ride satisfactorily, voicing his dismay with a sad-sounding mewl. There's not a single coherent thought in his head when he seeks out the next best thing; the next best thing being him sliding an arm beneath himself and shoving the pillow under his hips lower, grinding against the plush surface. He jolts to a pause only when Xue Yang smacks his ass, and afterwards grinds down harder.

Of course Xue Yang has to stop sometime... He can't keep his face buried in his ass forever, but Xingchen still whimpers in disappointment when he lifts away. He's outright pouting as he forces himself to stop the needy movement of his hips, though he can't help how he continues to twitch against the pillow every so often.

The way Xue Yang talks about him so greedily should probably be a red flag. Instead, it makes him burn hotter. "I wanted to wait for— for my—" For his soulmate. For his... Xue Yang?

It's still such a bizarre thought.

Again, he jerks slightly and rubs himself against the pillow when he feels his bedmate's finger slide in to a space where Xiao Xingchen himself hasn't even explored. It's quite a different sensation than a tongue, but gods, if it ends up feeling even half as good... Xingchen swallows another whine.

The way Xiao Xingchen tries to subtly ride the pillow is the hottest thing Xue Yang has ever seen and it briefly knocks him for a loop, getting harder than he thought he could each time those pretty pale hips twitch. He wants to fuck him so hard that the only thing Xiao Xingchen can seek is him.

As he starts fucking him with a finger, the press of another always rubs at the rim of that entrance like a threat. Xue Yang seeks out a sweet spot inside that tight ass to make it feel immediately much more pleasurable, covering him from behind to kiss his way up the nape of an exposed neck, biting with his sharp canines when he reaches the alluring curve of a shoulder.

Mine.

"Zhiji?"

That's what they are, after all. He says it boldly, the hard line of his cock a hot brand against the back of a thigh as he fucks Xiao Xingchen on his fingers, setting up a rhythm.

"Zhiji," purring it this time, he nuzzles in and his long hair drapes on a snowy back. "My pretty zhiji who needs my cock so badly, look at you. Hump that pillow, baobei, go ahead. It's okay, you're so cute. You've been waiting so long for a good hard fuck, I know."

Xue Yang's fingers press in, press down, and it's like he touches some sort of live wire; Xiao Xingchen yelps and lunges forward in an attempt to escape the sudden intensity. Clever of Xue Yang to keep him locked in place beneath the weight of his body and the bite of his teeth.

Xue Yang's kisses, fingers, and praise are relentless. Xingchen has never in his life felt this wildly out of control, or this aroused. "Oh, g— ghn-" Every strike against the vulnerable spot in him makes his insides spasm tightly, the sensation briefly jolting him forward from the shock of it. His attempts to flee the assault are always short lived; he quickly and predictably returns each time, caught in some graceless cycle of rocking back against Xue Yang's hand and fucking in to the pillow he's steadily leaking all over.

He forgets to feel insecure about it. There's no room left in his head for doubt or worry, he'd do anything asked of him at this point.

Dewy with sweat and flushed pink all over, Xiao Xingchen fists his hand in his own hair, nearly ready to pull it out of his scalp. "Ah! Please, please, I need— you- you said," is the brainless prattling that falls out of his mouth. It's his attempt at agreeing and demanding- he does need Xue Yang badly, when is he going to get him?!

Xue Yang is obsessed with Xiao Xingchen. He is not, however, self-unaware, and knows it is not healthy, but at the same time he has to wonder if Xiao Xingchen isn't the least bit aware of how beautiful he is (inside and out) and the way he keeps reeling him in like a helpless, heart-struck teenager with the least bit of effort ... to say nothing of writhing wantonly and begging to be fucked out of his mind.

So, it isn't really any of Xue Yang's fault when he lays claim to him, body and soul.

He slips his fingers free and kisses him on the shoulder with a whispered apology, telling him to wait, to be patient, I won't leave you empty for long, a-Chen, before he finds that discarded vial of oil. Upended over his cock, he works it in with a hiss of pleasure and rubs the length of himself along that alluringly pink furrow, teasing himself more than anything. When he spreads a cheek and angles the thick tip in past that swollen, pretty rim, his gaze flicks up to watch Xingchen.

"Spread for me, baobei," the saccharine pet-name is not without sincerity, as much as it provokes his virginal lover. Once he feels the widest part sink in, he groans and leans over Xingchen to kiss him on the shoulder, nuzzling his way to those lips. Xue Yang's voice is ragged with his erratic breathing as he holds back from simply splitting him open; this is his zhiji, his soulmate, and he wants him to want this. "Say my name."

Filling him up, inch by inch on a persistent, shallow grind, he still worries a little that Song Lan will enter Xiao Xingchen's thoughts, and he can't stand it.

"Say my name and kiss me, a-Chen."

Xiao Xingchen really is an idiot. He wants things that are in no way good for him, like leaving the misty peaks of his home to settle in an unkind and upsetting world, or chasing a rogue delinquent across the countryside. ...Like wanting to be stuffed full of cock when he's barely mastered fingers. But the heart wants what it wants, doesn't it? And so Xingchen doesn't raise the alarm even as his body fights against the sharp ache of being properly filled, because he wants it that much, despite his rising concern that fully taking Xue Yang in may not be physically possible.

If he had the processing power to realize he was being watched through all of this then surely he would protest, as he looks nothing like himself. There's nothing respectable or righteous about him now, bitten and bruised with his normally neat hair tossed about and full of tangles. He's entirely debauched, broken-open, and not even the sting in his lower half is enough to clear the glassy, besotted haze in his eyes.

Xingchen sucks in air through a wince. Stirs. Slides a leg over, open, up a fraction. Turns his head towards the hypnotic voice near his ear, the lighthearted peck of lips... Annoying as he'd found these little pet names before, he now seeks them out, ghosting favorable kisses against the warm mouth speaking so adoringly to him. Xiao Xingchen's own voice comes soft and between uneven inhales. "Xue Yang..." He's never used the name gently until now. He tilts his chin up, brushing their lips together in a series of brief but heated kisses that only break because Xingchen can't seem to catch his breath.

When he talks again, he sounds slightly more fraught. "Xue Yang, don't be mad if, ah... if..." He nearly loses his train of thought. Embarrassing. "—if it won't fit." It will, but of course it doesn't feel like it to a novice.

He worries about silly things when his mind is mush. Surprisingly, Song Lan is not one of those things.

It strikes Xue Yang (comforted and coerced into caring even more at the sound of Xingchen all but apologising) that his beautiful lover is still quite young. They both are really but it never occurs to him in the same way it does now, protective instincts flaring to life as he kisses along a shoulder to reassure him.

Don't be mad, Xingchen pleads, and Xue Yang's insides do a funny twist.

"I won't be mad, I'll never be mad with you, hush," he breathes, kissing Xingchen's hair where it spills like ink over his pale skin. "You're doing so well, you feel incredible. Breathe, it's okay, take your time. You're safe."

He slides a hand beneath them to stroke Xingchen's pillow-rutting cock, the leftover oil on his palm making the glide as smooth as the way he continues to ease inside that tight ass, little by little. Pausing whenever Xingchen tenses, pushing when he relaxes ... it's a waiting game, dictated by his lover's inexperienced body. All the while, feeling entirely accepted and wanted, he has nothing but patience and care.

"Zhiji can have me later." He stage-whispers because the room is empty but it still feels sweet to act like they're doing something illicit, kissing the nape of a neck. He rubs around the tip of Xingchen's cock for added emphasis. "Would you like to pin me down, a-Chen? Make me look up at you while you fuck me as hard as you like? I can take it, baobei, you'll get your turn."

Xingchen is not prepared for how hearing things like I'll never be mad with you and you're safe squeezes his heart. The way Xue Yang handles him and speaks to him is something he's only ever dreamed of- literally. Since making the mortal world his new home, the nameless and faceless figures in his dreams have been the few "people" to treat him with such mindfulness. Maybe it had been his subconscious way to fill a void; he's accustomed to pouring comfort onto others, not receiving it.

He considers it a miracle when Xue Yang's hand slides down to grip where he's still needy and wet. Without that distraction, Xingchen thinks the unexpected swell of emotion might have made him misty-eyed.

He directs a hiccup of a sound in to the sheets, barely able to tolerate being touched, filled, and whispered dirty fantasies at the same time. His entire body throbs with a want so strong that he's afraid Xue Yang might feel it and laugh at him, but more important than that, a worrying pinprick of a different thought keeps harassing him. "Only if you'd like it," he blurts, somehow successfully forming the thought in to words instead of an incomprehensible moan. Xue Yang has behaved so carefully with his zhiji. If Xingchen is to return the favor then he wants to do exactly that, not burden him with an unkind experience to be merely tolerated.

It's not possible for him to say all of that, though. Best he can do is a strained noise and an insistent, "I'm, it doesn't hurt, it's okay," even though he does sort of still ache and their hips aren't even flush yet. "I'll be alright, you can go quicker, please."

[ o my lord i didnt realize this much time has passed THROWS MYSELF OUT OF MY WINDOW ]

If he could rub his face in the curve of a shoulder and neck all day long, he would. He loves nuzzling there as he listens to Xingchen's staccato words, the gasps that eke out in synch with the push of a cock as he sinks deeper into his zhiji. A breathless laugh curls behind Xingchen's ear where Xue Yang plants kisses, finally bottoming out with a satisfied smack to a thigh.

"You're my zhiji." The groan that threads through him from dick to throat turns into a rumble as Xue Yang takes Xingchen at his word and starts to swing his hips, fucking into him to show him how to ride his cock. The sound is loud in the little bedroom, obscenely wet slaps causing him to lean back and watch how that pink hole greedily eats him up, thumbing around the rim with careless admiration. "We belong inside each other, of course I want you."

A little faster, a little harder, he can't help himself —

"Gods, you're so fucking tight."

He has to grab Xingchen's narrow hips to stop himself going too wild, too soon.

Xue Yang continues to surprise him. Xingchen warms pleasantly when his bedmate insists that they belong to each other, and in each other. He'd figured (and as he's learned, many of things he'd figured have been wrong) that Xue Yang would be the type to overshadow and own instead of allowing himself to be vulnerable.

How would Xue Yang look and sound, he wonders, if he were to get his hands and mouth on him? Would he still be unruly and willful? Or would Xingchen be able to soften him in to something more weakened and needy? Would he feel as frantic and aflame as Xingchen does now? The seed of the idea has been planted, and oh, his head is full of sinful thoughts. Xingchen remembers earlier in the night in particular, back in that horrible house where Xue Yang was bound in gold rope— that memory roots itself in his head but in his new imagined scenario, Xue Yang isn't surrounded by the dead or being arrested.

If Xingchen wanted him that way, would Xue Yang allow it...? Leave himself defenseless like that?

He doesn't realize how rambunctious his curiosity has made him. He's picked up on Xue Yang's guidance quickly, braced his hands against the bedding as he quite willingly rolls his hips back to meet his bedmate's, a little rougher each time. Before he can build a good, hard momentum though, he feels the squeeze around his hips, the heartbeat of hesitation that is Xue Yang composing himself...

Unsurprisingly, Xiao Xingchen slightly misreads the situation. "Wait, don't stop," he protests, quickly pushing himself on to his knees before plonking his weight down and back all in one go, in to Xue Yang's lap with a hoarse outcry. Very stubbornly refusing to let him go, apparently.

The way Xingchen slams his hips back to take Xue Yang's cock is a move more suited to a brothel and the fact Xingchen does it of his own accord is ... incredible. The groan that punches out of Xue Yang is breathless and he almost laughs, learning of the neediness of his lover, but all he does is knead that cute ass and drag it back again, refusing to move.

"That's it, baobei," a filthy, sweet name for the ruined beauty desperate to ride his cock. "Gonna have to take it if you want it, just like that. Fuck yourself on me, good boy."

Xue Yang almost laughs, while Xiao Xingchen does outright. The sound of it is frail and astonished after he grinds against the lap beneath him, compelled to move by the words purred next to his ear. Soon he reaches down to brace a hand against Xue Yang's thigh, using his own zhiji to balance himself as he initiates the measured ebb and flow of lifting and sinking on to the rigid cock that- like this- digs deeper than he would've ever thought possible.

He quickly notices the way he mindlessly chases after the thrum of pleasure that floods through him every time he drives downward, uncharacteristically disinterested in any sort of temperance. He huffs another brief and airy laugh, amused with himself.

Reaching back, he tugs one of Xue Yang's hands around to his front and directs it to lay against his stomach, just under his navel. "Feels like you're all the way to here," he comments, out of breath. His own hand remains over Xue Yang's as he continues to ride him, keeping the other man's palm in place and pressing it in, having taken a liking to that extra little bit of pressure and the low ache it causes.

Maybe this is all some elaborate ploy to kill him, it really could be. Xue Yang can only bite his lip and keep his hips still from sheer force of (iron!) will as Xingchen uses him, shameless and beautiful as he discovers what he likes with the help of his zhiji's obliging cock. When that hand takes his and places it on a navel he spreads his fingers and pets there as he starts to move again, drawn into the irresistible wet clutch of that body.

His lips drift behind an ear, voice roughened as he drives against the spot that gets Xingchen crying out the loudest, holding him close with the pawing touches down his belly. The thought he's so deep, able to see it ... and maybe he can, he wonders: Xingchen is a slender, elegant figure.

"I'm gonna pull out; just roll onto your back, so you can see me," the thrusts stop, easing away, "and I'll put it right back in. I want to see you."

If he's going to lose his mind, he may as well do it properly. Besides, looking at Xingchen while fucking him feels like a thrilling idea all on its own.

Oh, Xue Yang should consider himself lucky. If he hadn't left Xingchen momentarily fucked senseless, he likely would not have let him escape. He's already chased Xue Yang down once before, the regular way. Why not across a bed in order to sit on him, too?

He's already empty and pouting about it by the time the electrified feeling in his limbs subsides enough for him to reposition with minimal trembling, colored a rosy-pink all the way down to his collarbone.

Xingchen turns and lays himself back with his knees partway bent and legs modestly closed once more, batting the probably-ruined pillow away with an outstretched arm that ends up dropping carelessly on to the bed while still up above his head somewhere. He's so fine-boned and willowy... Maybe Xue Yang could see himself with Xiao Xingchen like this. "What else is there to see? You've looked at everything." He may not be grinning, but his tone is on the cheeky side- not surly or mean.

It's a funny reward, in a roundabout way, for slaughtering an entire clan: a pristine, beautiful vision of his very own daozhang laid out before him. The coy legs arranged with some leftover semblance of modesty have his hands pushing them wide open to reveal how ruined Xingchen really is, a hard cock and puffy rim both an angry pink as they shine wet in the lamplight.

His, all his. Xingchen belongs to him now.

"You're gorgeous."

He drops a kiss to the inside of a knee, mouthing his way up the soft pale inside of a thigh, prowling his way up that lissome body until he can seize a hungry kiss, licking his way past soft lips with a moan. Pinning the hand draped over Xingchen's head, he reaches down to guide his cock back inside that tight heat with a single thrust, breaking the kiss to watch Xingchen's face.

"Look at me, you tease."

It's terrible reinforcement, isn't it? Maybe when Xingchen is no longer drunk on his own wants, he'll remember to make it clear that this sort of thing will not happen every time Xue Yang wipes a clan off the map.

Xingchen tilts his head, watching the sly little fox slink his way back in to his space. Xue Yang's attempt at prying his legs apart is met with some resistance, making his troublesome bedmate work for it a bit... But he allows him to win quickly enough- of course he does, because he wants Xue Yang back where he should be.

The admiration and kisses draw a serene hum out of Xingchen just before his mouth is ravaged, equally hungry when he responds in turn, though the contact is sidelined for a gasp once Xue Yang plunges inside again. His back does a brief little arch, pinned arm straining against the hold while he clenches around the imp wreaking havoc on him. He's not even moving, and Xingchen's lungs are already working harder.

"Mmn." Command heard, his eyes flutter open, not even realizing he'd closed them in the first place. His only unrestrained hand lifts, fingers pushing through Xue Yang's messy hair and dragging it away from his face. "M'looking."

Xingchen has the terribly interesting habit of annoying Xue Yang as much as he endears himself, so when after a bit of playfighting to get between his legs and take him Xue Yang is torn between fucking him the way Xingchen wants of teasing him right back. That choice is made for him, however, by the sight of Xingchen poured out beneath him like a dream, squeezing around him as Xingchen arches and stretches to accommodate.

"You're beautiful."

He brushes along a cheek, under an eye, and leans down to nudge their noses before kissing him softly, savouring having Xingchen. It's very much about the sex, there's no way Xue Yang doesn't want to get this man screaming his name, but ...

This is his zhiji too, his soulmate: he only has patience in endless reserves for Xingchen.

The hand in his hair makes Xue Yang shiver, starting to fuck him to a shallow rhythm that means he doesn't have to pull out too far, searching for the best angle for Xingchen instead of taking care of his own desires first. It may be the first time in a while Xue Yang hasn't taken what he wanted without pause for thought.

Oh... Oh. See, funnily enough, Xingchen feels like having obscenities growled against his skin is easier to tolerate than being so openly adored. He breathes a weak sound in to the indulgent kiss, arm roaming down to curl around the other's shoulders in a loose hold. And as soon as their mouths disconnect from each other, Xingchen tucks his face against the column of Xue Yang's neck, burying his shyness there.

How long does he hide? Not long enough, honestly... It's impossible, with the way Xue Yang moves- shallow and consistent, dragging against everything that feels too overwhelmingly good, making Xingchen gently roll his hips in to the motion.

Left near-panting in no time at all, Xingchen's head soon drops back on to the bed, blinking up at his bedmate with an almost strung-out look in his eyes. "If, if you keep doing that..." The warning is unsteady and left unfinished, replaced by a quiet whine as a leg hooks around one of Xue Yang's.

He can feel it when Xingchen finds his rhythm and they move together perfectly, working each other up into louder moans and shallow, breathless sounds whenever a messy kiss parts. The way Xingchen clings to him is addictive and he never wants to let him go.

"Here, sweetheart?"

The leg curling around him is hitched higher as Xue Yang grasps that thigh, bucking harder and faster to pummel the exact angle that has Xingchen whining. Hair falls in his eyes as he watches him, shaking with each thrust that fills the inn's bedroom with loud, lewd slaps of flesh-on-flesh, unmistakable if someone were to put their ear to the doors.

"I'm gonna make you come again soon, baobei, you can let go ... let me see it. You're so pretty, a-Chen ..."

For a long moment, Xingchen is struck silent. Unable to breathe, unable to whimper. The blaze under his skin is close to intolerable, the pressure low in his hips achy and building, leading him closer and closer to something enormous and terrifying. He's never felt so full or so unraveled; he wants to push Xue Yang away, before this all-consuming thing that's turning his limbs to static and causing his heart to race drags him under, but he doesn't. He doesn't. He grasps and clings instead, like all he wants in the world is to fuse the two of them together in to one creature.

When he comes, it's with a keening sound that's almost a sob, almost a moan- something akin to both and yet not quite either one, bucking shallowly against the body pressed tight against his own. The space between their bellies becomes a slick mess, wet with his release, while everything inside Xingchen constricts— shivers— constricts again, over and over. The high drags on forever, exacerbated and prolonged by every movement of Xue Yang's until neither of them has the strength to even twitch.

During the breathless course of recovery, Xiao Xingchen is still lost to a pleasant white-out, practically glowing with calm fulfillment. The blissful feeling is genuine enough and strong enough that Xue Yang is sure to end up with the peaceful colors of contentment, whatever those may be...

But the worry is there, patiently waiting for the buzz to fade so it can take its turn. Eager to remind Xingchen that he's in an impossible situation. Does he expect to be able to kill Xue Yang now? How is he supposed to be alone after this? Even if his zhiji is flawed and cruel and has earned his punishment— how will he let him go, when he doesn't even want him to leave the bed they've ruined?

"Xingchen, Xingchen ..."

He can feel every moment of tension leading up to Xingchen's orgasm and loses himself in the rippling pressure of it around his own cock, groaning low and long as he bucks hard to keep him full for the duration. It's not as if Xue Yang can hold out forever, much to his own annoyance when Xingchen is a flawless visage where he's being fucked so hard and visibly loving it, and when he feels the creeping heat of his own completion he braces a hand beside Xingchen and drives in hard to spill waves of come that feel like they are being dragged out of him until his mouth is gaping on staccato gasps. His cock throbs, spitting the last, and he rests his weight on his bent arms as he covers Xingchen on the bed.

He isn't aware of kissing over Xingchen's shoulders. Nuzzling him is so natural as he catches his breath, he brings up a hand to comb through that long silky hair and cup his cheek, panting against a jaw.

No colours are seen because Xue Yang doesn't need to open his eyes when he has Xingchen in his arms. What could be more beautiful?

"You're about the most perfect thing I've ever had."

With a soft, wry laugh, pecking Xingchen on the corner of his lips.

Full of shivers, Xingchen is thankful for the blanketing effect that Xue Yang provides. If it weren't for that, he thinks he might've already trembled in to tiny pieces. His arms and thighs squeeze around the overheated body sprawled over him, nearly kitten-like in the way that he turns towards the honeyed kisses and nudges, welcoming more.

The wild pounding in his chest has slowed and left behind a warm, sleepy heaviness all throughout his body. The urge to doze is strong, amplified by Xingchen's slow, rhythmic petting along a smooth stretch of Xue Yang's skin- he's lucky that the sound of his bedmate's voice keeps him rooted to consciousness. Xiao Xingchen hums before absorbing the meaning of the words, then huffs a breath. Mildly entertained by how enamored Xue Yang seems to be. "I can promise you, I'm far from perfect."

His eyes open slowly, almost reluctantly, vision pulling in to focus with the help of a few lazy blinks. His arms drop away from his zhiji for the sake of a lengthy stretch that ends in a... strange, curious expression on Xingchen's face, and an unusual squirm of his lower half. "Did you happen to." Hm. Hmm. While biting thoughtfully at his lower lip, Xingchen reaches a hand down between them, fingers gingerly touching at where they're joined. "In... in me?" He sounds a little bewildered. Is that— a thing? That's fine, right?

All about dozing and mumbling replies until he feels that wandering hand start to explore, he can't hold in a giggle and raises his head to pour a leery look down on his flushed jade swan of a lover (poor inner poetry withstanding, Xue Yang is enamoured and more). The kiss that meets Xingchen's cheek a moment later is already fond, pressing Xue Yang's nose there.

"If you're gonna get fucked like a girl, you may as well get filled like one."

A sharp eye-tooth nips at a lower lip of Xingchen's, tugging before letting go. A sated, happy Xue Yang surely is playful as he purrs into the chaste kiss that captures that abused lip straight after, enjoying the way, when he starts to pull out his softening cock, his come meets those curious fingers.

"Or at least like the dirty girls do, hah?" Oh, yes. He's enjoying himself immensely, reaching down to rub his fingertips against that puffy hole and smear around his own mess. "Do you like being my dirty little baobei, a-Chen?"

Thinking of Xingchen as a swan is very fitting... It's especially suiting to how he blusters up and squawks in objection after the description of getting fucked and filled like a girl defiles his ears.

His prickliness is gentled by the kiss that follows the barb and the bite, the tension that had nearly lurched him upright a moment ago now melting from his body and leaving him harmlessly slack atop the bed once more.

At least until the perplexing feeling of Xue Yang pulling out and his own body leaking causes him to twitch. The sensation draws a soft gasp from him, one that turns in to a surprised hiss of air sucked through his teeth when Xue Yang's fingers swoop in to do their own meddling. He's still so sensitive to touch, swollen and unaccustomed to being handled in such a way- his hips kick upwards a short distance, on reflex alone.

After persuading himself to settle, he tilts his head, watching Xue Yang play between his opened legs. "It is your mess, isn't it." He leaves the actual question unanswered (because he.. does like it, he thinks, gods, he can't possibly confess something so crude—), giving Xue Yang a light shove with one of his knees while they rest at either side of him. "It's polite to clean up after yourself."

The way Xingchen twitches and jerks, so sensitive, is delightful. It makes Xue Yang want to tease him for hours on end but this is not the time for that, especially when Song Lan will be joining them whenever the Chang estate is finally cleansed of the dead and their tormented spirits. So he drinks his fill of the sight, leaning down to kiss him sweetly like he notices that non-answer and very clearly isn't going to challenge it, allowing Xingchen to keep the shreds of his dignity.

"Alright," he says mildly, for all the world just a cheeky, affectionate lover as he pats him lightly on the ass. "Don't go anywhere."

Haha. Eyes twinkling with mischief, he slides off the bed to find the basin of water by the window and carry it over along with the courtesy towels. No weary traveller has been washing the dirt off their face in this inn's suite so he utilises the fresh water to first swipe away the come dripping down Xingchen's backside and thighs, cleaning up the mess on his belly where it dribbled down too, before a new washcloth chases away any lingering sweat. He's perfunctory about it and doesn't tease, even though it's an intimate act, and is soon patting Xingchen dry with the remaining cloth, looking a little silly with his long hair sticking up here and there from amorous fingers combing through it in the throes of passion.

Sometimes his gaze flicks up, admiring and teasing, but he's obediently reliable in this task and is soon sitting on the edge of the bed, finished and looking for approval.

He doesn't care to see all the new colours around the room or to be distracted, not once.

"Better? You should get dressed," he reluctantly admits after a moment, knowing Xingchen wouldn't want to be caught like this. Naked and debauched. "It's getting late."

Xingchen doesn't know what he'd expected after Xue Yang playfully left him, but it wasn't the gentle care shown as Xue Yang obediently wipes him clean. He glows a warm pink, humbled by the pleasant surprise. His skin prickles with goosebumps, unrelated to the temperature of the water or the air in their room, while he thinks— it's nice. Being... valued, in this very simple, human way.

That cottony shroud of fatigue quickly falls over him again, lulling in to a languid twilight-state. He's slow to blink and push himself in to a seated position after Xue Yang settles himself on the edge of the bed. Xingchen leans in to bump gently at the little ghoul's cheek, pressing a grateful kiss to his skin and then tucking his head against his bedmate's shoulder. Ah, all he wants in the world is to bundle them both in blankets and sleep.

"Mm?" Xue Yang's words have to drag through the syrupy haze of Xingchen's cozy sedateness, but once they break through, the reminder shocks him awake and upright with a little gasp of air. That's right, they're— oh— Zichen will be— Oh no.

Xingchen all but scrambles out of the bed, dressing in a flurry of white. Lucky that he's able to do this part swiftly and efficiently; while tying robes back in to place, he turns to Xue Yang, mouth open to speak. What comes out instead is a shocked laugh. "Oh, your hair. It's." ...A disaster? Xingchen briefly presses a hand against his mouth (deliberately suppressing an urge to smile), before that same hand waves the troublemaker closer. "Come here, I'll have to put you back together."

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