[ The scoff leads to nothing, sinking so hard and fast in his throat, the sound of it demented and undone when he's held. Go on, smite him. Turned the rest of the way around, Tartaglia dodges the kiss, not so cagey and deprived that he's going to be felt up with the small of his back digging into the bathroom's countertop. ]

You're always so vague.

[ Stalking forward, he shoves He Xuan past the doorway and over the threshold, no way to outrun Tartaglia when he's hot on his heels. Coy, and then insatiable, he's slow and vicious with these pursuits. Pushing He Xuan back until he's all but nailed to the bedroom's mirror, it's floor-length and reflecting everything, like his mood and his demeanor, so vicious and still vying for more. Tracing one cheekbone with his thumb, Tartaglia smudges him with his touch. ]

Why's that? Can't say you want to fuck me? Is that too impolite?

[ Now Tartaglia leans in to claim his mouth, licking into it. A very bruising gesture on his part, rendered in longing and addiction, and an appetite far greater than any of these sweets could ever satisfy. Coming away from He Xuan, he plants that secret between their parted lips, only drawn away long enough to breathe. ]

Tell me how long you wanted me. You owe me that.