Guangyao has always had an odd relation with his looks. Pretty, beautiful, even, to the point of looking more like a woman than a man at times, if people believing the statue of his mother shared his face instead. He wasn't disdainful of his looks, and he loved and was proud of his mother, but that didn't stop the association from being a poor one in the eyes of others. Pretty, they'd call him, and often it was meant as more of an insult.

It doesn't feel like an insult from Xichen, it never has. He feels tears burning at his eyes again and he shakes his head, either in protest or to try and clear it, who knows.

He can't keep control of his voice much longer, his pants and moans growing louder as Xichen learns all-too-well where every weakness is, how he can match Guangyao's body's needs perfectly. It's hard to believe this was real. He half-expects to wake, alone and cold and aching at any moment.

It doesn't happen, and he gazes at Xichen with wide, wet eyes full of awe and reverence. "Hu... Huan. Huan..." He practically chants the name as his rhythm falters, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back as he comes with a cry only moment later. He jerks his hips, trying to ride out the pleasure as tears slipped down his face, gasping for air. He feels drunk, reaching for Xichen, trying to pull him into another sloppy kiss. "A-Huan. My body is on fire. You're driving me insane."