warning: slight nsfw
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"Weizhen," a breathy voice tickled his ear, large hands upon his exposed belly, scorching him from the inside out. Weizhen holds his breath, eyes decidedly shut. A hand circles around his throbbing length and his heart stutters in his chest.
It's all just a fever dream…
But Weizhen is awake, lying down on a makeshift bed that consists of nothing more than a thin blanket atop a cold floor. No one keeps him company, aside from the chilled breeze that slips through the walls.
"Ngh…" Weizhen moves his hand over his sex, his hold rough to match Yinan's abusive pace in his imagination.
He's too old for this. Self-depreciation creeps around the corners of his mind. But he forces them down, letting his lust wash over him like a cozy blanket.
The Ye Yinan in his imagination kisses him over the gag he has in his mouth. The real Weizhen bits down on his bottom lip as his dream self trembles and bucks.
