Lan Zhan squeezes Wei Ying's hand as his breath is punched out of him. It hurts it's so good, wrenches something inside him that has him on the edge ridiculously soon.

His grip doesn't waver, thankful that Wei Ying knows to ground him like this. He's so thankful, so in love. He can hear himself making desperate noises and bites at the back of his free hand out of habit