[ bixing is wound up and all of his cogs and pieces and parts are straining under the pressure. jingheng isn't a doctor, he observes, he is silent for a reason most of the time and does his work without a word. here and now, bixing stills a kiss and their teeth click and their lips don't outright meet, but what does jingheng care?
lu bixing kisses him and he allows it, opens up for him like a silent door. jingheng tastes like drink, sharp and lingering, and he allows him to steal a taste of it, like sharing secrets. his own hand wanders, pulling from lu bixing's in a strange way: as he carefully slides fingers from his glove, lets them push off against him palm to his wrist. slowly, slowly, like a serpent. ]
Rest, Bixing.
[ it isn't over. it's not going to be over by a long shot, but he will be the shade under the tree if it means that lu bixing's tired head, an inferno, a firestorm, can finally go under. something cool and soft to put it all out. when they part, he speaks in a whisper: ]
I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. Remember?
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lu bixing kisses him and he allows it, opens up for him like a silent door. jingheng tastes like drink, sharp and lingering, and he allows him to steal a taste of it, like sharing secrets. his own hand wanders, pulling from lu bixing's in a strange way: as he carefully slides fingers from his glove, lets them push off against him palm to his wrist. slowly, slowly, like a serpent. ]
Rest, Bixing.
[ it isn't over. it's not going to be over by a long shot, but he will be the shade under the tree if it means that lu bixing's tired head, an inferno, a firestorm, can finally go under. something cool and soft to put it all out. when they part, he speaks in a whisper: ]
I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. Remember?