Oh boy. Fisting has nothing to with dicks and everything to do with, you know, putting your fist places.

[the mere image leaves Shi Qingxuan's blood running cold, but not cold enough to dispel him from the pleasant haze of having another body so close to him. He doesn't make a move to reach down, at first, his hand firmly on Xue Yang's waist before he pulls him down so that his mouth aligns with the taut line of his neck. While he trusts guest to take care of getting the pants out of the way, Shi Qingxuan is hardly shy when he slides the outer and inner robes off, teeth scraping a faint line down his exposed collarbone and chest.]

I don't know [he nudges a knee between Xue Yang's legs] Do you want to?