Lan Zhan lets out a hot, sharp breath at the request. The act of feeling Wei Ying like this from the inside is so intimate and wonderful but the idea that Wei Ying likes it is so good it is almost unbearable.

He presses another finger back on much more gently than the first time before he leans in, contemplating for a moment one of the other things the book had revealed. It ought to be repulsive and is probably so forbidden no one in Gusul Lan ever thought to carve it onto the Wall. But Lan Zhan wants every single part of Wei Ying. He slides his tongue over to lick around his fingers, buried as far as they will go.