In hindsight, the gag gift Feng Xin had gotten him wasn’t necessarily a weird one. They’d given each other useless and downright weird things before, for both birthdays and holidays—inappropriate aprons, clown costumes, even children’s bicycles (it was bright pink, with training wheels and a little horn. Feng Xin had looked mortified for two seconds before climbing on and attempting to ride it. Mu Qing may or may not have video proof.)
So, all in all, Mu Qing is entirely used to his roommate’s antics. They aren’t friends, not really, but they’re civil to each other because they live together and Mu Qing is much too tired to truly ever hate Feng Xin, no matter how loud he plays his shitty music in the middle of the night when Mu Qing just wants to sleep.
Still, despite their usual antagonistic antics like leaving each other burned food and hair dye pranks and airhorn wakeup calls, Mu Qing almost has a stroke when Feng Xin gives him a particularly interesting (and late) gift for his birthday.
A goddamn dildo.
It’s gorgeous, is the thing. Mu Qing would never admit it, but he was intrigued by it when he first opened up the packaging, and he still is.
It’s a little too realistic, flesh-colored with a pair of balls at its base, maybe seven inches in length, and thick enough to make Mu Qing’s mouth water. He’s never fucked himself with anything this large. Mu Qing hasn’t ever had an actual dick inside him—his own hands and the two other dildos he owns are more than enough to satisfy him—so the prospect of having a new toy to play with has Mu Qing anxiously and excitedly bouncing his leg under the table as he and Feng Xin scarf down their breakfast the morning after Mu Qing’s birthday.
Mu Qing finishes his mouthful of cereal before he asks, “You have class today, right?”
Feng Xin, scrolling on his phone, gives a little grunt in answer. That’s a yes. And then he looks up, squinting. “Why the fuck do you wanna know?”
“No reason,” says Mu Qing, which sounds dumb, so he quickly adds, “I wanted to vaccuum and it’s easier when you’re not around,” punctuating the statement with a sharp glare.
It’s a feasible argument—Feng Xin is likely to make a mess while Mu Qing is vacuuming. He’d spill some potato chip crumbs on the floor with a stupid grin on his face because he’s rude like that.
Feng Xin snorts. “Have fun.”
Oh, I will, Mu Qing thinks.
And then ten minutes later, Feng Xin is leaving the apartment, backpack slung over his shoulder as he races away to his morning calculus class which he is undoubtedly late for.
Mu Qing’s legs are already trembling when he rushes into his room and pulls the dildo out from where he had hidden it, buried under stacks of clothing in a random drawer.
It’s prettier and bigger than he remembers it being—nice and thick and veiny—and he wants it inside him, forcing him open, as soon as possible.
But first, some prep.
Mu Qing cleans the dildo—he’s a responsible adult, thank you very much—and strips down to nothing, grabbing his half-empty bottle of lube (oil-based and fragrant, because he has taste, thank you very much) before he lays on his bed. He wants to slick his fingers up and stretch himself out, but no, not yet. Feng Xin’s class is an hour and a half long, and Mu Qing wants to take his time getting acquainted with the newest addition to his (admittedly pathetic) collection.
Feng Xin’s dildo is sizable compared to Mu Qing’s two other ones. The bright pink one buried in a different drawer is about as long but slender, while his purple one is just the right size for him to fuck himself with when he doesn’t have quite as much time to prep and he wants it hard and fast.
The thing is, Mu Qing might be a little bit of a size queen. He’s stuck with his two dildos thus far, but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t considered purchasing another one, slightly longer and thicker than the ones he owns. He wants to take it slow and fuck himself with toys of slowly increasing size before he takes something big.
The only problem, the only thing preventing him from doing so, is his goddamn roommate.
He’s just so nosy, and he pops in and out of the apartment at the oddest hours because he’s the type of asshole who likes to go out and get McDonalds at 2 AM after ‘studying’ for an exam. He raids their fridge once at 9 PM and again at midnight, and sometimes mills about in the kitchen in the hours between. He skips classes at least twice a week (and he’s somehow passing, much to Mu Qing’s surprise) and loiters around the apartment doing god-knows-what instead of being productive.
Essentially, Feng Xin’s status as Mu Qing’s roommate is a massive problem because Mu Qing wants to be able to scream when he stuffs himself full with a new, bigger toy, but he can’t. And if he’s not able to fully enjoy himself, then he’ll stick with his two pathetic dildos and his own slender fingers and moan quietly into his pillow when he fucks himself stupid after a rough day.
But here Feng Xin is, wrecking Mu Qing’s carefully planned out practices with his ill-timed gift. (Mu Qing was going to wait until the summer, when he’d be back home, to treat himself). Feng Xin probably doesn’t even think Mu Qing will use it—he gifted it as a joke to see Mu Qing turn a bright red before shouting down the apartment walls, which he did. But fuck if Mu Qing is going to let this gorgeous thing go to waste.
It’s not until he holds it up and examines it further that he realizes it’s curved up just the slightest bit. His own cock twitches as he considers the discovery—his other dildos are ramrod straight, and he wonders how different this one will feel, if it’ll fuck him just as good or even better.
He’s at least half-hard now, but he makes no move to pleasure himself, instead electing to roll over and hold the base of the dildo down on his bed before taking the tip into his mouth, suckling on the silicone material.
And it must be because this dildo was gifted to him by Feng Xin, that he thinks of it as Femg Xin’s dildo, which is almost synonymous with Feng Xin’s dick. So if he pretends to himself, as he sucks in a few more inches of the almost-too-realistic dildo, that it’s his roommate’s cock he’s stuffing down his throat, it’s no one’s business but his own.
He doesn’t always have the time to do this, but today he does—he gets the dildo nice and wet, spit-slick, up until halfway when the tip nudges against the back of his throat. He pulls off with a little sigh, eyes half-shut as he drags his tongue up and down its length, tracing veins and kissing at the tip.
Again, he’s never actually given anyone head, but he knows he’s got to be good at it with all the practice he does on his toys. Mu Qing isn’t a messy person—he’s organized and tidy and hates it when Feng Xin clutters their apartment with random papers and knickknacks—but in this, he lets himself be sloppy, lets spit run down his chin and down the length of the dildo until it's on his fingers where he’s holding it down at the base.
(He wonders, if this were theoretically his dick, if he’d be moaning, fisting a hand into Mu Qing’s long hair and pulling it, forcing him off because the pleasure was too much.)
Mu Qing lets out a little whimper, grinding his hips against his mattress as he gives one last long lick from base to tip, wishing it were—
Panting, he flips himself onto his back and reaches for the bottle of lube. He’s stalled for long enough, and the heat simmering in his gut is becoming near unbearable. His cock is throbbing but he ignores it, instead slicking up a finger and sliding it down to his clenching entrance. He traces his rim for several moments, teasing himself.
It’s best this way, he’s come to realize—when he builds up his arousal until it’s almost painful before he lets himself reach his peak, close to tears as he free falls over the edge, shaking and moaning as he shatters apart.
A low whistle floats to his ears, and he jerks up, eyes flying wide open to catch sight of Feng Xin leaning against his doorway, arms crossed and head tilted. His roommate’s eyes have never looked darker, and they’re trained on, on—
Icy panic shoots through Mu Qing’s veins because oh god oh god oh god, he just caught me about to fuck myself open with his stupid dildo, and Mu Qing is about to scream or throw up or bury himself under his covers forever when Feng Xin speaks.
“Keep going.” His voice is low and raspy, and it makes Mu Qing shiver and swallow down the shame and near-terror building in his chest.
He hardly dares to breath as Feng Xin steps further into the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it, his gaze never straying from Mu Qing’s intimate parts the entire time.
Licking his lips, Mu Qing considers his options. He could grab the dildo and hurl it at Feng Xin’s head and watch, satisfied, as it nails him wetly in the face. They would both be mortified and walk away from this with bruised egos and maybe awkwardly avoid each other for a couple of weeks.
Mu Qing could stop ignoring the damn thing between them. The thing where Feng Xin watches Mu Qing when he thinks he’s not looking, where he tugs on Mu Qing’s ponytail when he wants his attention because it’s annoying, but they’re both into it. The thing where Mu Qing’s mouth goes dry when Feng Xin walks out of the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips, allowing his firm musculature to be put on display for Mu Qing and Mu Qing alone.
In the end, there’s really not much of a choice, is there?
Keep going, Feng Xin had said.
A choked noise escapes his roommate’s throat when Mu Qing circles his entrance one last time before plunging his finger into his depths with a little gasp.
Bet you didn’t expect that, Mu Qing thinks as he presses his digit in further. His fingers are long and slender—this isn’t even stretching him, not really—but he’s enjoying the shocked expression on Feng Xin’s face too much to care.
Mu Qing didn’t know he had a thing for being watched, but he can’t deny that this is doing more for him than any of his other late night fantasies regarding his roommate’s thick, calloused fingers and even thicker length.
He’d practically seen it once, when he stumbled into Feng Xin late at night in the kitchen when they were both grabbing a glass of water. Feng Xin had been wearing nothing—absolutely nothing—besides a pair of gray sweatpants that did not at all hide the generous curve of his length. The faint kitchen light had casted shadows across it in all the best ways, and if Mu Qing had to frantically jerk himself off as soon as he returned to his room, no one was the wiser.
Feng Xin’s wearing a pair of joggers right now, not quite as revealing as the sweatpants, but it’s enough for Mu Qing to see that his roommate is definitely interested in Mu Qing’s shameless display.
Feng Xin breaks the silence, his voice scratchy when he speaks. “You can take more.”
In quiet shock, Mu Qing’s breath leaves as a sharp exhale. “W-What?”
Feng Xin crosses his arm and a haughty smirk appears on those unfairly gorgeous angular features. “Another finger, pretty boy.”
A jolt runs through him at the pet name. Maintaining eye contact, Mu Qing slowly extracts his finger and reaches for the bottle of lube still resting on the covers beside him. He squeezes out a generous amount of the cool liquid, and as he returns his slick fingers to his entrance, he lets out a little moan when his arm brushes along the sensitive length of his cock.
Feng Xin is transfixed, dark eyes hooded, as Mu Qing slides two digits into his hole, shallowly thrusting. He’s hot all over now—Feng Xin’s gaze is burning him, setting fire to his blood and his skin. Mu Qing knows he flushed easily and wonders how pink his face has gone, how pink his barely stretched rim is.
“One more,” Feng Xin says, and this time it comes out as a whisper.
Mu Qing sighs, tipping his head back into his pillow as he continues languidly thrusting with two fingers, curling them every so often, though he avoids his sweet spot.
The only reason he’s able to force out words is because he’s no longer watching Feng Xin watch him. “Do you like what you see?” he asks, like he doesn’t know the answer. He thinks if Feng Xin weren’t so busy watching his fingers disappear into his slick hole, he’d have a hand down his own pants right now.
But no, when Mu Qing lifts his head to consider his roommate, Feng Xin is just staring, lips parted and pupils blown wide in lust.
“You’re beautiful,” says Feng Xin, and he sounds like he means it. Heat rises up Mu Qing’s neck, curling up to his ears and high on his cheeks.
He adds a third finger in reward and moans at the stretch. As much as he’ll deny it later on, he knows he likes praise, and if Feng Xin wants to shower compliments on him, he’ll flush to his roots but cherish the fluttering warmth in his chest all the same. Not that he needs Feng Xin’s praise to know he looks good.
A few more breaths pass before he hears, “Have you had four fingers inside you before?”
His fingers curling, Mu Qing accidentally ghosts over his prostate and releases a sharp moan. He’s never needed more than three fingers to stretch himself for his toys, but as he turns his head to consider the girth of Feng Xin’s gift, maybe—maybe he’ll need four after all.
Mu Qing tenses up when Feng Xin moves, straightening from his lazy slouch against the door and stepping closer, each move slower than the last as if to give Mu Qing time to protest.
And when Feng Xin settles on the foot of the bed, just inches away from his spread legs, he prods at his hole with his pinky finger, though he doesn’t work it in—not yet.
“Are you scared?”
“Shut up,” he hisses, though his irritation melts away as he curls his three fingers and lets pleasure wash over him instead.
“It’s big, isn’t it? A lot bigger than your fingers.” It seems to take all of Feng Xin’s strength to tear his gazea away from Mu Qing’s fluttering entrance as he turns to regard the dildo resting by Mu Qing’s head. “Will you need help getting it in?”
“I don’t—hhh—I don’t need your goddamn help.”
“I think you do. If you really want to be stretched,” Feng Xin lowers his voice, “you’ll have to take my fingers.”
A hand, warm and rough, firmly winds around Mu Qing’s ankle. It’s large, Feng Xin’s hand. Mu Qing is built slender, his fingers long and elegant, but Feng Xin is broader, sturdier, rougher around the edges. The heat that emanates from him is like a brand on Mu Qing’s skin, and his cheeks flush further as he considers having Feng Xin’s thick fingers inside him, spreading him and stretching him out better than he ever could on his own.
“No,” he says, unwilling to give Feng Xin the satisfaction of needing him in some way. Mu Qing doesn’t need him, doesn’t need anyone.
“No?” Feng Xin squeezes his ankle once before letting go, settling back to watch, though his eyes betray how much he’d rather pounce on Mu Qing instead. “Okay, pretty boy. Show me what you’ve got.”
Mu Qing reaches for the bottle of lube again and drenches his fingers. Fuck his duvet. The oil will stain it, but he’s got something to prove.
Careful of his limits—it’s been a while since he’s gotten to indulge like this—Mu Qing takes a few deep breaths, and runs the tips of his fingers over his entrance, playing with himself. He wants to tease them both and prolong this as much as he can; if Feng Xin wants a show, a show is what he’ll get.
Four fingers. It burns, but the pain is a dull ache in the face of his arousal. He lets tiny noises escape him as he works his fingers in and out, shallow thrusts. His wrist is beginning to hurt, but it feels too good to stop. Feng Xin is eyeing him hungrily, each of his sighs and whimpers chipping away at his composure.
Mu Qing spreads his long, pale legs apart even further to give his roommate a better view of his puffy, dripping hole—he wants to torture Feng Xin for this. Mu Qing’s cock is completely hard now, red and drooling, but he refuses to give it any attention, instead forcing his fingers even deeper.
He sets a steady rhythm, not too slow or too fast, but just enough to stoke the flames of his pleasure building low in his gut.
“Faster,” Feng Xin breathes, but Mu Qing only responds with a low moan before he slows down, until he can feel every millimeter he presses into himself.
Feng Xin allows him to keep his snail’s pace for a few minutes longer before he grunts, “Fuck.” He leans over—and Mu Qing’s cock twitches at the sight of Feng Xin above him—and grabs the dildo before sitting back on his haunches. Mu Qing watches, still steadily fingering himself, as Feng Xin drips a copious amount of lube down the silicone length.
It looks to be a normal size within Feng Xin’s hands, but Mu Qing knows it’s thick, bigger than anything he’s ever put inside himself. And as he eyes it, slick and glistening in the faint light of the room, Mu Qing wants it. With his free hand, he reaches for it, and Feng Xin licks his lips before handing it over.
And because he’s a little vicious and he thinks Feng Xin ought to suffer for humiliating him like this, he sits up and holds the dildo up. Keeping eye contact the entire time, he gives the shaft a long lick, and watches his roommate’s throat bob, his dark eyes glittering.
And then Feng Xin seems to stop breathing entirely when Mu Qing smirks and leaves kisses and kitten licks right under the head, the place Mu Qing knows firsthand is sensitive.
“Stop teasing,” he growls.
With a satisfied huff, Mu Qing falls back, his chin tipped up, and spreads his legs wide, hiking them into the air. He doesn’t have to lift his head to know that Feng Xin is watching as he rubs the tip of the dildo up and down over his entrance. He doesn’t let it sink in, but it catches against his rim every now and then, and he swears he hears Feng Xin’s breath hitch every time.
Still, there’s only so much he can take of the hollow, empty feeling within him. He regards Feng Xin steadily as he begins to push the dildo in. When just the head sinks past his rim, he stops, panting heavily.
It's big. He already knew this, but it bears repeating at least a dozen times over—the dildo is big. The stretch so far doesn’t hurt, but Mu Qing knows that the base is wider than the flare of the head and oh god this might tear him apart.
“Having trouble?” Feng Xin’s low voice taunts, though it trembles at the edges.
“I’m fine,” he spits out, letting another inch sink in.
He works the dildo in deeper and deeper, first starting with shallow movements before pushing more in. It spreads him, fills him up and absolutely ruins him for his other two toys, but he can’t bring himself to regret it.
It's about halfway in when Mu Qing truly begins to struggle. It’s good—it’s too good, and he can hardly focus on fucking himself as jolts of pleasure distract him on every thrust.
Mu Qing had almost forgotten Feng Xin was sitting there watching him until he speaks, and he has the gall to sound amused, though his voice is raspy, when he says, “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”
“Hnn— F-Fine,” Mu Qing stutters out, though maybe he shouldn’t have, if the predatory look on his roommate’s face is anything to go by.
A gasp escapes him when Feng Xin bats his hand away and grips the base of the dildo himself. Slowly, he begins to work it further into Mu Qing’s depths, his gaze traveling from his clenching entrance to his flushed face, watching Mu Qing’s reactions to every movement.
“Can you take all of it?” he murmurs almost to himself. “I’m sure you could. Seems like you fuck yourself a lot, huh? Play with your slutty hole when you think no one’s around?”
Mu Qing is leaking all over his stomach, uttering punched out noises each time Feng Xin drives the dildo in to punctuate his words. His motions are relentless, like he’s addicted to the sounds of Mu Qing’s high-pitched, embarrassed whines and he wants to hear more.
More, he agrees, but he refuses to say so. He won’t beg for it; he won’t beg Feng Xin for anything, not even this.
Feng Xin seems too enthralled to care. He had shuffled himself nearer to have a better angle with the toy, but now he moves to loom over Mu Qing, resting a hand by his head as his face hovers inches away from Mu Qing’s own. His eyes are dark and his lips are wet and swollen, and Mu Qing finds that he wants to sink his teeth in that full lower lip and coax noises from Feng Xin for a change.
He tilts his head up and hopes his dense excuse of a roommate will catch his drift—and he does. Their mouths meet and then it’s all tongue and teeth, give and take, but all Mu Qing wants to do is take, take, take. He cradles the sharp line of Feng Xin’s jaw and nips at his lip hard enough to make him gasp, and then Mu Qing is tasting him, sweet from the Frosted Flakes he’d eaten not too long ago and something a little headier that must be entirely him.
Feng Xin whispers something against his lips—something Mu Qing is far too dazed to catch—and the dildo sinks in deeper, and the base is pressed against the curve of his ass. He hears a high pitched whine, and it’s only a few ragged breaths later that he realizes it’s himself emitting the keening sounds.
“Fuck,” he curses emphatically, and then Feng Xin is kissing him again, preventing any other speech.
“So beautiful,” Feng Xin says into his lower lip and then nips a line from the corner of his mouth to the curve of his neck. “So fucking gorgeous. You make such pretty sounds.”
And then Feng Xin is moving the dildo faster, much faster than Mu Qing had been fucking himself earlier. The tip nudges at parts of Mu Qing he hadn’t even known existed, lighting bright sparks behind his eyelids. He clings onto Feng Xin’s shoulders, and when he realizes he’s gripping handfuls of fabric, he growls and tugs at the hem of his roommate’s T-shirt, desperate for his skin and firm muscles.
Feng Xin releases the dildo for only a moment, just to strip his shirt off, but when he reaches for the toy again, Mu Qing shoves his hand away and gets onto his knees.
“I’m going to ride it,” he says hoarsely, planting the dildo’s base on the surface of the bed and holding it there. “And you’re going to watch me.”
Feng Xin looks a mixture of irritated and aroused, but says nothing, only settling back on the bed so he can get a good view.
And then Mu Qing makes good on his promise, tossing his head back as he sinks down on the dildo’s length. The angle is different like this—he has less control of where exactly the dildo strikes his most intimate places, but it’s still good. Good enough that he doesn’t have to fake his gasps and moans. The fact that Feng Xin is still watching him only heightens his arousal even further.
“How much do you like my gift?” Feng Xin asks. His eyes are hooded and lust-filled as ever.
“S’good,” Mu Qing slurs. Even his pride is willing to admit this. It’s not as if there’s any way he can lie—he’s taking the dildo like a champ and will be sore and loose for days.
“I’m glad you like it.” Feng Xin’s voice has gone low and predatory, and if Mu Qing weren’t under a haze of pleasure, the alarm bells in his head would be wreaking havoc.
Alas, he only fucks himself down on the toy even harder.
Feng Xin inches closer, close enough that he could tip forward and suck a bruise on Mu Qing’s collarbone. But he doesn’t. He only says, “I picked it for you because it looked like mine.”
A jolt runs down Mu Qing’s spine and startles the breath out of his lungs. He sinks down on the dildo one last time before stopping and blinking rapidly at his roommate. “What?”
“Would you believe me if I said mine’s bigger?”
Mu Qing’s cock twitches and begins leaking even harder, creating a small puddle on his bedsheets. Oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck, he thinks as Feng Xin begins undoing his trousers.
Feng Xin’s cock is gorgeous. It’s long and thick and uncut and straight out of Mu Qing’s wet dreams. He has to reach down and squeeze the base of his own length so he doesn’t come right then and there, because Feng Xin wasn’t exaggerating. It’s huge.
“What the fuck?” he almost screeches. He’s not panicking; he’s not. “How do you just— walk around with that between your legs?”
Feng Xin grins. “So you really do like it.”
And fuck me, Mu Qing thinks, because he really does. He really, really does.
“Think you can take it?” Feng Xin asks, slowly stroking from base to tip.
Fast as lighting, Mu Qing finds the discarded bottle of lube and dumps a generous amount into the palm of his hand. “I want to ride you,” he says. “Get on your back.”
He doesn’t think Feng Xin has ever obeyed him quicker, but the promise of a good fuck will do that to any man, Mu Qing supposes as Feng Xin lays flat, his head cushioned by the pillows.
Mu Qing reaches for Feng Xin’s cock and slicks it up—and god, it’s so weighty in his hand. Feng Xin hisses when Mu Qing rubs a thumb under the sensitive head. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’ll do whatever I like,” says Mu Qing before he presses the head of Feng Xin’s cock to his entrance and invites him into his warm depths.
Feng Xin’s length is hot and hard, and while Mu Qing had loosened himself up earlier, the stretch still leaves a slight burning sensation. He takes it slow, breathing evenly and resolutely not looking at Feng Xin’s face. He’s so close he’ll actually come on the spot if he looks at his roommate and the pure desire he knows he’ll find there.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” Feng Xin hisses, his hands coming up to grip Mu Qing’s waist. “You feel perfect around me, squeezing me and sucking me in.”
“Shut up,” Mu Qing says, and that’s exactly what Feng Xin does when Mu Qing drops his weight and takes that long girth in its entirety.
Mu Qing wonders why they waited so long to do this—why they ignored all the built up tension between them—if it was always going to result in a mind-blowing orgasm. Or five.
Oh, he’s definitely going to get at least five, Mu Qing thinks, when Feng Xin releases an animalistic groan that reverberates all throughout Mu Qing’s sensitive body. Feng Xin reaches up and tweaks his pink nipples, and Mu Qing whimpers, rolling his hips in long, sensuous movements in an attempt to get Feng Xin’s cock to touch him where he needs it most.
Feng Xin continues exploring Mu Qing’s pale skin, his calloused fingers tracing lines up and down Mu Qing’s abdomen, his hands squeezing and kneading Mu Qing’s supple ass. “Feel good?” he asks, and Mu Qing places a hand around Feng Xin’s neck and rides him harder in answer.
It’s good. It’s so, so good. And just when Mu Qing doesn’t think it can get any better, Feng Xin lifts him up and says, “Hands and knees, pretty boy. I’m gonna fuck you into the bed.”
Mu Qing moans, dazed, but maneuvers his trembling body until he’s ass up, face down, giving Feng Xin a perfect view of his stretched, inviting hole and the sinful curve of his spine.
And then, with a hushed, awed fuck, Mu Qing, his roommate drives into him in one sharp movement, sinking in fully. Mu Qing can almost feel him in his lungs like this, or maybe all his blood is rushing south so fast he can hardly process the sheer pleasure he’s feeling.
Mu Qing can’t say he’s ever been high before, but this has to be at least ten times better.
Feng Xin sets a relentless pace, twisting his hand into Mu Qing’s long hair and tugging on it. Delicious pain prickles at Mu Qing’s scalp, and don’t stop, don’t stop, he pleads.
“God, yeah, take my cock,” Feng Xin growls, sinking his teeth into the nape of Mu Qing’s neck, and that’s all it takes for Mu Qing to spill into the sheets without even touching himself, gone on the roughness of Feng Xin’s voice and the breakneck pace of his hips.
Mu Qing holds onto his wits for just a bit longer and clenches down on Feng Xin as though trying to keep him from ever leaving. It only takes a few more quick thrusts, off-rhythm and hard enough to move Mu Qing across the bed, before a hot wetness floods his depths.
“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing sighs, just to hear himself say it. He’s already sore, and his thighs are trembling.
His roommate kisses the curve of his shoulder, pulls out, and sinks in one final time, spreading his fluid around Mu Qing’s entrance. It’s leaking everywhere, dripping out of him—there’s no way he can salvage these sheets.
“Yeah,” Feng Xin says against Mu Qing’s skin. “We definitely need to do that again.”
Mu Qing smacks his thigh but hides a grin in the fabric of his pillowcase.