Xiang Yu's fingers brushed lightly in front of Han Xin's face, trying to snap him out of his trance. But instead of the expected response, Han Xin's hand shot up, catching Xiang Yu's wrist with a firmness that startled him. The heat of Han Xin's grip was almost unbearable, his fingers pressing into Xiang Yu's skin with an intensity that made his breath stutter.
"Babe—" he started, but the words died in his throat as Han Xin raised Xiang Yu's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, slow and deliberate. The touch was wet, hot, and obscenely intimate, sending a jolt of electricity through Xiang Yu's body. He called the divine emperor several times to come and stop his son, but there was no response. It was like screaming into an empty abyss.
'What the fuck is happening?' His thoughts scrambled as Han Xin's tongue flicked against his skin, tasting him like he was savouring every inch.
