[Shi Qingxuan's hands go up instinctively to cup his guest's face with the grace of someone who's been often inebriated, in the company of adventurous others, or both. Their lips are sticky with wine, and he feels the prodding against the seam of his mouth. A beat later, only when he's steadied Xue Yang, he parts his lips to let him in.
His knee echoes the motion, spreading the young man's legs before half pulling him into his lap with the hand that's wandered away from his face. It strays from his waist, up to his sleeve, the nape of his neck, angling his head so to deepen the kiss.]
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His knee echoes the motion, spreading the young man's legs before half pulling him into his lap with the hand that's wandered away from his face. It strays from his waist, up to his sleeve, the nape of his neck, angling his head so to deepen the kiss.]