Riding out his orgasm to the point of exhaustion is almost too much; he feels floaty, like he's having an out of body experience, and alongside knowing Jiang Cheng's attention is completely on him— well, if he were to expire from being overdone, he certainly wouldn't mind. It is fortunate, that isn't the case, as he spills within Jiang Cheng's hand, come spattering all across his torso, staining his pretty lingerie. Quiet, breathless whining is unsurprisingly all he can manage, though the encouraging, complimentary whispering somehow has his cock giving one last valiant twitch before he's entirely spent.
He mutters something inarticulate, more sound than words, half-lidded eyes broadening momentarily at the sight of Jiang Cheng cleaning the fluids from his hand with his tongue. There's a groan, he averts his gaze, trembling uncontrollably the whole time his arms are rubbed and well after he's being moved to lay down. Sizhui's hand lifts, reaches to touch the spot where the man's mouth had been moments ago then he sinks down against the mattress, mostly unmoving aside from the faint quake in his legs, bleary-eyed stare on Jiang Cheng's hand and the washcloth he's using to clean him up with. Goddamn, he's never come so hard in his life, it's a wonder he's still even halfway coherent. (To be fair, ‘halfway’ is generous at this point.) Whenever he's finished and disappears again, the younger male simply lays there, blinking at the ceiling, letting himself come down from the euphoric high, hands clenching around the bedsheets then loosening again after a few minutes.
At least when Jiang Cheng returns with whatever it is he was getting and helps sit him up, Sizhui can hold himself upright somewhat, the fingers of his right hand gripping the blanket's edges closed once it's around him, opposite hand reaching for the mug.
“Mmn, I remember.” But as he takes the cup, he hesitates, loosens his other arm so he can hold it with both hands, afraid the leftover tremors will have him dumping it all over himself. “I, I think I need a minute...”
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He mutters something inarticulate, more sound than words, half-lidded eyes broadening momentarily at the sight of Jiang Cheng cleaning the fluids from his hand with his tongue. There's a groan, he averts his gaze, trembling uncontrollably the whole time his arms are rubbed and well after he's being moved to lay down. Sizhui's hand lifts, reaches to touch the spot where the man's mouth had been moments ago then he sinks down against the mattress, mostly unmoving aside from the faint quake in his legs, bleary-eyed stare on Jiang Cheng's hand and the washcloth he's using to clean him up with. Goddamn, he's never come so hard in his life, it's a wonder he's still even halfway coherent. (To be fair, ‘halfway’ is generous at this point.) Whenever he's finished and disappears again, the younger male simply lays there, blinking at the ceiling, letting himself come down from the euphoric high, hands clenching around the bedsheets then loosening again after a few minutes.
At least when Jiang Cheng returns with whatever it is he was getting and helps sit him up, Sizhui can hold himself upright somewhat, the fingers of his right hand gripping the blanket's edges closed once it's around him, opposite hand reaching for the mug.
“Mmn, I remember.” But as he takes the cup, he hesitates, loosens his other arm so he can hold it with both hands, afraid the leftover tremors will have him dumping it all over himself. “I, I think I need a minute...”