With the lack of talking, even if he's trying to keep reminding himself who's behind him, it's harder to focus between the vine around his throat making it harder to breathe and the way Xue Yang is moving inside him. His breathing is harsh, rough pants as his hips hips rock back, his fingers flexing and pulling against the vines holding him in place.

And his lips part on gasping moan as his vision whites out again after a particularly rough thrust.