Xichen lets out a soft hum when Jiang Cheng moves them, follows along and when the door is closed presses the younger man back against it. His hands settled over Jiang Cheng's hips, press them against the sturdy surface he crowds him against.

"Is this alright?" he does not wish to overstep, even as he speaks into the little space between them. He wants so much, the desire to consider propriety fading.