[ Many things happen very quickly, and suddenly Song Lan feels like a glacier in a hurricane. Frozen, unmoving, while the world crashes and breaks around him faster than it ever should.
His heart stops, when Xingchen's robes flutter down to a pile at the man's feet. How long did they wander together, and yet this is a sight left completely unseen? He doesn't even have the heart to look away - or, perhaps, he doesn't have the presence of mind to - though his grip slips from Xue Yang's neck, fingers gliding through his hair, instead. He remembers himself just in time to grip tightly, to pull a handful of hair taut in his fist, his own breath coming out in a shuddered release far too late. ]
Xingchen--
[ The word sounds like a plea, though it's impossible to tell if it's a plea to continue, or a plea to stop, and Song Lan at least is convinced it's the latter. But it falls on deaf ears, and a second later the world ceases to turn as he feels Xingchen's forehead against his - the man's face too close now to make out, though the white band takes up most of his vision anyway. His breath catches just a second early, his body anticipating even when his brain couldn't bear to, and then Xingchen's lips are on his.
It is difficult to describe how it feels to kiss someone you've longed for nearly your entire life, even more difficult to describe when you've been punishing yourself for your yearning nearly as long. He felt it like a tingle - a shudder - at first, spreading from his lips down to his finger tips, making his heart quiver in its wake. Then like fire spreading under his skin, making his fingers twitch and twist in Xue Yang's hair, accidentally tugging him closer almost against his will. He hasn't forgotten the other man is there - couldn't possibly forget - the image of him in Xingchen's lap would be burned into his mind forever. But for that brief moment, his existence was one Song Lan could tolerate, if not entirely enjoy.
Purely because the entire world was suddenly so much more tolerable.
The fantasy broke two heart beats later when Song Lan's brain finally managed to catch up to him. When he realised he could feel a breeze under his robes, his sash gone, and--
He grunted softly against Xingchen's mouth as he felt his arousal suddenly and deftly consumed with a wet, tight heat. He didn't need to see what was happening to know it - to know how Xue Yang had quickly discovered the lie behind his protest - the fact that his cock had laid closely protected under cloth to hide the shame that was his own arousal. His moment of blissful unawareness had given the man an easy opening to put his words to the lie, to display and mock his shame.
And it felt so good that it hurt.
His lips parted, sucking in a breath that tasted of nothing but Xingchen, everything very quickly far, far too overwhelming.
He needed to stop. He needed to push them both off. Family. This wasn't family, this was something perverted, something twisted, something dark that Xue Yang had managed to grow in Xingchen's heart and now was corrupting them both. He needed to stop this, he needed to save him, and yet--
And yet, all he could do was tighten his grip, groan at the back of his throat, and part his lips. ]
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His heart stops, when Xingchen's robes flutter down to a pile at the man's feet. How long did they wander together, and yet this is a sight left completely unseen? He doesn't even have the heart to look away - or, perhaps, he doesn't have the presence of mind to - though his grip slips from Xue Yang's neck, fingers gliding through his hair, instead. He remembers himself just in time to grip tightly, to pull a handful of hair taut in his fist, his own breath coming out in a shuddered release far too late. ]
Xingchen--
[ The word sounds like a plea, though it's impossible to tell if it's a plea to continue, or a plea to stop, and Song Lan at least is convinced it's the latter. But it falls on deaf ears, and a second later the world ceases to turn as he feels Xingchen's forehead against his - the man's face too close now to make out, though the white band takes up most of his vision anyway. His breath catches just a second early, his body anticipating even when his brain couldn't bear to, and then Xingchen's lips are on his.
It is difficult to describe how it feels to kiss someone you've longed for nearly your entire life, even more difficult to describe when you've been punishing yourself for your yearning nearly as long. He felt it like a tingle - a shudder - at first, spreading from his lips down to his finger tips, making his heart quiver in its wake. Then like fire spreading under his skin, making his fingers twitch and twist in Xue Yang's hair, accidentally tugging him closer almost against his will. He hasn't forgotten the other man is there - couldn't possibly forget - the image of him in Xingchen's lap would be burned into his mind forever. But for that brief moment, his existence was one Song Lan could tolerate, if not entirely enjoy.
Purely because the entire world was suddenly so much more tolerable.
The fantasy broke two heart beats later when Song Lan's brain finally managed to catch up to him. When he realised he could feel a breeze under his robes, his sash gone, and--
He grunted softly against Xingchen's mouth as he felt his arousal suddenly and deftly consumed with a wet, tight heat. He didn't need to see what was happening to know it - to know how Xue Yang had quickly discovered the lie behind his protest - the fact that his cock had laid closely protected under cloth to hide the shame that was his own arousal. His moment of blissful unawareness had given the man an easy opening to put his words to the lie, to display and mock his shame.
And it felt so good that it hurt.
His lips parted, sucking in a breath that tasted of nothing but Xingchen, everything very quickly far, far too overwhelming.
He needed to stop. He needed to push them both off. Family. This wasn't family, this was something perverted, something twisted, something dark that Xue Yang had managed to grow in Xingchen's heart and now was corrupting them both. He needed to stop this, he needed to save him, and yet--
And yet, all he could do was tighten his grip, groan at the back of his throat, and part his lips. ]