They wasted so much time, he thinks, and perhaps if he had been more straight-forward then a woman and he son wouldn't have had to die by such cruel methods. Jin Guangyao would have been too busy taking load after load of Xichen's come to bother with a wife, beautiful and desperate like he is right now as he kisses with an unhinged hunger repaid in kind, the curve of his ass squeezed as Xichen helps him bounce on his cock into over-stimulation.

He sinks his qi into him through everywhere they touch, tongue and cock and hands coaxing at Jin Guangyao's qi to dual cultivate as they make love (fuck, yes, but also). Xichen's is a cool blue, a leftover sparkle on his lover's skin that hints at nothing of the torrential waterfall constantly cycling around his meridians from a powerful golden core, and he moans as he sees him through more than eyes or skin, opening himself up to being known on a level more intimate than even the joining of their bodies.

"A-Yao ..."