Work Text:
Jian Yi brushes Zhengxi’s hair away from his face. They’re flush in the sticky heat of late summer, his body pressing Zhengxi into the soft mattress.
“Xixi,” he says, just to hear the sound of it.
Zhengxi frowns at him. He’ll protest — he finds the nickname childish. Jian Yi knows, but he uses it anyway when he wants to remind himself of their closeness. Of how long it’s been this way.
Zhengxi draws breath, and Jian Yi smothers him with a kiss. He buries his hands in Zhengxi’s hair. Presses him deeper into the mattress. Wants him more than air.