It’s only the warm hand on the small of his back, idly rotating its palm against his skin, fingers skittering up and down his spine, that notifies him of Yixing’s proximity.
“Daddy?” he whimpers earnestly as the hand disappears. A slick appendage replaces it on his body, tracing the contours of his back and leaving fiery trails of inflamed nerves in its wake. It dips into the ridges of his spine, swirls at every incline and depression on his back, and leaves him a shivering mess. Pearly white teeth then follows, scraping roughy against his skin, sending waves of pleasure through him. That devilish mouth continues its path upwards towards his neck, randomly suckling and biting, leaving dark bruises in trail.