Surprisingly gentle, Xue Yang turned Meng Yao around, made him tilt his head back by cupping his chin and moving it up, and then washed his hair for him. Made sure to get any grime and blood - and the frankly maybe a bit too large quantities of gel - out of it. Then he stood there, arms wrapped around him from behind, one hand on his chest right above his heard, and he pressed his lips against his neck.

He marked him. Bit down, sucked hard, nibbled and kept at it until it was a dark purple. He was making him his.