#have some dreamy soft fengqing

[cecropiacrown]

Mu Qing's long fingers find purchase at the base of Feng Xin's skull, expertly threading through his loose hair with an unrivaled gentleness, until he's nestled there comfortably. Feng Xin heaves a great big sigh, a shiver of anticipation racing up and down his spine at the feel of Mu Qing's nails scratching his scalp—every touch and breath feeling like a thousand moments shared between them as Mu Qing starts to close his hand—and with no further warning or preamble, he tugs.

It's so torturously slow and deliciously firm in a way that drives Feng Xin wild. He squeezes his fist around this handful of Feng Xin's hair and the feeling sets Feng Xin's limbs aflame. He trembles, thighs tensing as he sinks his knees into the mattress from where he is straddling Mu Qing's lap.

Mu Qing may as well have pried Feng Xin's own beating heart right from his chest.

Just as suddenly as Feng Xin's entire existence was captured in that elegant, strong hand, he is released. Mu Qing always does this: rides this balance of keeping Feng Xin on his toes without any idea of what to expect and somehow giving him exactly what it is he craves most.

Just as Feng Xin has resigned himself to stillness, Mu Qing grips him again, the pressure steady and unyielding and so perfectly achy.

Feng Xin sinks further—in both mind and body—his eyelashes fluttering as he nuzzles his nose against the dip in Mu Qing's collarbone. He traces the line of his sternum as far as he's allowed with Mu Qing holding him in place, until he can just barely make out the roundness of the underside of Mu Qing's pecs.

His lips part even as Mu Qing's grip prevents him from nuzzling any further, and he opens his eyes just enough to look up at his lover—his partner—his equal.

Mu Qing is already staring down at him, his eyes dark and ravenous as if he's devouring Feng Xin from sight alone. It thrills Feng Xin to feel so wholly coveted in this way and he's powerless to resist the moan that shakes up from his core and out of his mouth. It's a wordless plea that even he doesn't know the purpose of, until Mu Qing loosens his hold on Feng Xin just enough to let his lips make contact with his chest.

Feng Xin's eyes slip closed, his blood rushing in his ears. He slumps forward and presses an open-mouthed kiss against Mu Qing's skin—right over the heart that knows him better than he knows himself—the heart that belongs to him just as much as he belongs to it—and he smiles, feeling loved beyond what words could possibly convey.