eating sugar out of your hand
But Lan Zhan is unrelenting. He smiles at Wei Ying, soft and fond, and rubs little soothing circles against Wei Ying’s back with his thumb. “You’re not what, Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying whines, soft and sweet, and drops his gaze, unwilling to entertain this further. But Lan Zhan kisses his neck again, and strokes at his hair, still twisted up against the back of Wei Ying’s head, held in place by his fist.
“You’re not my omega?” he whispers, tightening his grasp on Wei Ying’s hair, directing Wei Ying to look up and meet his gaze in the mirror. “But you submit to me like you’re my omega.”
Oh.
Wei Ying’s eyes widen in shock. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, frantic and rabbit-quick.
“You get wet for me like you’re my omega.” Lan Zhan whispers, and trails his fingers along Wei Ying’s waist, stirring up a dizzying warmth between his legs.