Xingchen's fingers tracing along his collarbone have him inhaling sharply, his eyes still locked on Xingchen's face, his fingers moving, tracing over his chest, thumb brushing over a nipple as he does so.

And then he shifts slightly, slides a thigh between Xingchen's legs in the way he remembers Xue Yang doing to him, although he's more gentle, just giving Xingchen time to tell him to stop.