Shen Yuan gasps as Binghe rocks up into him. He'd--thought it would be less, this time, because last time had been the first ever time, and he'd been high, and now he's been fucked, he knows what it's all about, there's no need for his body to go so crazy just because it suddenly realized might it happen again. But he does still have the blood parasites, after all, and they're probably why he has to fight not to moan embarrassingly at, like, basically everything Binghe does--the cold hands on his waist, the teeth at his lip. If he's not careful they'll just--rub off on each other through their clothes like teenagers.

He breaks the kiss to pull back, a little, steeling himself, and then drops his hand to brush the back of his knuckles against the bulge in Binghe's sweatpants. It's hot, even through the cloth, and even before he means to Shen Yuan starts exploring the shape of it with his fingers.