The sensation for Han Xin was absolute. It was a tingling that started at the crown of his head and shot down to his curled toes. Every nerve ending was on fire, every particle of his being focused on the slow, deliberate fucking of Xiang Yu's fingers inside him.
He was overwhelmed, completely owned by the pleasure, his toes curling into the rumpled sheets, his knuckles white where he gripped them. Xiang Yu crooked his fingers just so, and Han Xin saw stars, a guttural, broken moan tearing from his throat.
"You like that, don't you?" Xiang Yu purred, his voice thick with lust.
The stretch was exquisite, a sharp, bright pain that melted instantly into a pleasure so profound it felt like drowning. "More," he begged, the word a ragged whisper. "Please, baby, fuck... more."
