Shen Qingqiu sighs happily into it, a little zing of pleasure zipping down his spine just at the movement of lips on lips. Sagramore's mouth is warm and clever. He squirms closer, his hand shifting around to the back of Sagramore's neck, and kisses him again—unhurried, exploratory, but god, it's nice—he's not sure anything has ever been nicer. Is this what it would have been like to kiss girls, if he'd done it back when he was straight?1
no subject
1 It is not.