Memory-Jian Ci didn't wait. He couldn't. He pulled back, the drag making Yu Xi whimper, and then slammed back in, setting a ruthless, pounding rhythm right from the start. His hips pistoned, each drive burying him to the hilt in that clenching, reluctant heat.
His hands, the ones he couldn't command, were vise-tight on Yu Xi's narrow hips. The torn fabric of his pants and underwear hung in useless ribbons, baring the pale, now-reddening skin of his ass to the violent rhythm. Jian Ci's breath was a hot, ragged torrent against Yu Xi's ear, every exhale a promise of possession. "Mine."
The word was a guttural growl, ripped from a throat raw with power and need. He pulled back, the head of his cock slick and gleaming in the chaotic light, and drove back in deep and hard.
