After fastening your seatbelt. Qi Ming didn't pull away. His rough palm rubbed over Qu Yue's * a couple of times, and the trousers of the man beneath him instantly tented.
Qi Ming clearly admired this masterpiece of his own making. He lowered his head, his movements growing faster and rougher. Qu Yue, meanwhile, threw his head back against the seat, trembling all over with pleasure. His fingers gripped the leather of the passenger seat tightly, his neatly trimmed nails nearly digging into the material. Soon, his eyelashes grew damp, and his vision turned blurry. Qu Yue gritted his teeth, trying hard to endure, until an involuntary * escaped his throat. He instantly bristled with embarrassment, turning his flushed face away. "Stop... stop it," he pleaded.
Qi Ming wore a faint, mocking smile as he pressed closer. Two long fingers, firm as iron pincers, forcefully turned Qu Yue's chin back, making him engage in a long, wet kiss.
Qu Yue was unusually captivated by Qi Ming's kisses, even in bed.
————略略略/依旧是河蟹部分——
戚铭一吻他,瞿岳就不抵抗了。
Perhaps all beauties carry their own scent—Qu Yue loved the fragrance that always clung to Qi Ming. His kissing skills were masterful, laced with a raw sensuality that felt almost indecent. When he doted on someone, it was as if he were savoring a piece of candy, holding them in his mouth to lick and caress with inexhaustible patience. He would gently sway his head, deliberately brushing the tip of his nose against them, seducing them into unwavering devotion.