Sparks of heat travel down Xichen's spine at the sound, the way Jiang Cheng arches up against him. There is a desperate energy thrumming around them, through him, and he wonders if Jiang Cheng feels just that.

He lets the other man adjust, gather himself before he moves his hand to stroke him. The movements falter as Xichen is pulled close, as fingers tighten in his hair and draw a moan from his lips that's muffled as as they kiss. It is messy, desperate. It is what he wants and needs, the touch after so long fire that cleanses and replaces each memory before it.