[ Wen Kexing spends so long teasing him, dragging lips and tongue feather-light across his skin, and Zishu is going to scream if he doesn't do something. He's torn between kicking Wen Kexing in that stupid, perfect face of his, and closing his legs so that his desperate desire isn't so obvious, the weight of Wen Kexing's gaze practically palpable. ]

Stop looking--

[ The words are strangled at the first, light brush of wet heat over his cock, so brief Zishu almost thinks he imagined it from the sheer force of his desperate desires. And then, though, his back bows as he presses a hand to his mouth to muffle the keening cry that rips out of his throat as Wen Kexing takes the tip of Zishu's cock into his mouth. ]