Pink lips part, sinewy tongue swiping out to lick away the mess. By the time he is done, Jongdae’s thighs, ass, knees, and jaw are sore. But really, with Yixing as his master, when are they not?
Opening his eyes again, he finds himself being yanked up and twirled around, pushed face first into his desk; his papers, pens, and calculator flying off, the laptop thankfully pushed to the side, in the farthest corner away from their activities. Hands grip his wrists together and silk binds them in place, the smooth sensual feeling setting his nerves on fire. Yixing knots it off, the loose ends tapering down to the edge of his fingertips. Dexterous fingers unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip his slacks, pushing his black boxers and pants down in one solid motion.