Wei Wuxian scarcely makes a sound when stabbed, yet he whimpers like the dying as Lan Wangji's cheeks hollow, holding him in an exquisite vice as he moves. Every so often, the tip of his tongue brushes at the sensitive head of his cock, and Wei Wuxian's grip on his hair tightens, on the cusp of dragging him down harder even as Wei Wuxian uses the last of his sense to fight the impulse.

It's simply too good, and he feels his belly tightening, a pressure building where his golden core used to be. "Lan Zhan," he tries again, "I - I'm - "