Lan Wangji blinks up at Wei Ying's tone and leans up to kiss his sober face, mustering all his courage and resolve to properly voice his request.

"Like it is your cock in me," he whispers, blushing furiously even as he presses on. "Imagine it is in me, move as your hips would move."

There something about simply the idea of it that sends a bolt of arousal through him, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he flexes his hips, wanting something more. "Curl your finger up when it pushes in."