The tendency of Lan Zhan to do so, to visibly lay claim upon him, is equally needed and satisfying. So much so that Wei Ying often does express to his husband just how much he desires it. He only has just enough modesty to mindfully cover any of the more glaringly obvious marks when in the company of others, be it with make-up or other means. However, when it's only the two of them around, Wei Ying is more than pleased to have them known and revisited.

Ever-needy, desperate and unabashed sounds continue to tumble past Wei Ying's lips. Although he takes deep pleasure in hearing anything and everything that comes from Lan Zhan's side, sometimes going so far as Wei Ying biting down hard on his lower lip, or even attempting to hold his breath, the efforts more often than not are in vain.

Wei Ying squeezes their joined hands for the few moments that it lasts for. He isn't always paying especially sharp attention to each and every decision that Lan Zhan makes. —At least up until they slam into him all at once. The pressure from the ring that he had adjusted himself to wearing, and for so very long, was suddenly lifted, only to immediately be replaced by Lan Zhan's solid grip.

It's all too much. Every tight, wet slip of Lan Zhan's fist over the head of his cock, combined with the unrelenting drive into him, has Wei Ying's bound wrists pressing hard up within Lan Zhan's opposite grip. Gasping, hitched sobs catch in Wei Ying's throat when he climaxes, hard, cum spilling heavily over Lan Zhan's fingers.

Keep going. Keep going.