[With his breathing now really beginning to set off, Xiao Xingchen can barely make a hum of acknowledgment of what Xue Yang says, a dazed look in his eyes as he feels the effect really starts to set in. It feels like a long time since he purposefully consumed this kind of food, as he would only do so with a partner he wouldn't feel like troubling at the moment. He had access to most food without this effect lately.
His eyes first focus on a hand Xue Yang uses to hold the crepe. Despite how they're not posed too suggestively, he only needs to recall a few moments ago in the shower, when Xue Yang's fingers felt around inside him and he considered riding them to orgasm without any shame right then.
If he's already committed to this, why doesn't he take Xue Yang for all the pleasure he can provide?
That thought intensifies as his gaze sweeps lower. Slick already rolling down his inner thighs, he can't ignore the idea of simply holding onto Xue Yang's shoulders and leveraging himself onto his cock before he even finishes breakfast.
With his own hand starting to grip his own crepe, the fruit preserves start to run down and onto him. He doesn't think too much - other than noticing the sugary, sticky feeling - as he sets it back onto the plate and decides to clean the sweet liquid with the tip of his tongue. First, along the soft skin of his inner wrist, then up along his palm.]
no subject
His eyes first focus on a hand Xue Yang uses to hold the crepe. Despite how they're not posed too suggestively, he only needs to recall a few moments ago in the shower, when Xue Yang's fingers felt around inside him and he considered riding them to orgasm without any shame right then.
If he's already committed to this, why doesn't he take Xue Yang for all the pleasure he can provide?
That thought intensifies as his gaze sweeps lower. Slick already rolling down his inner thighs, he can't ignore the idea of simply holding onto Xue Yang's shoulders and leveraging himself onto his cock before he even finishes breakfast.
With his own hand starting to grip his own crepe, the fruit preserves start to run down and onto him. He doesn't think too much - other than noticing the sugary, sticky feeling - as he sets it back onto the plate and decides to clean the sweet liquid with the tip of his tongue. First, along the soft skin of his inner wrist, then up along his palm.]