Jin Guangyao was a warm weight in his lap, his breath catching for a moment as their eyes met and then Xichen's gaze dropped, lingered on the socks A-Yao was wearing, the sheer fabric unfamiliar. His fingers brushed against the stockings tentatively, the lace holding his attention at least until the question had his attention back up.

"...A-Yao.." It's a little hoarse, his own skin flushing just a little as the ache inside him becomes more solid. "Right here?"