"No," he moans. Even Jiang's breath against his shoulder is turning him on. "God-- none of them feel like you. Nothing feels like you."

One hand stretches out, braced against the bed, while the other moves like he wants to push it under himself. He doesn't, but now that Jiang's yanked his hips higher he can't even hope for friction from the bed and he feels like's dying. "Please," he gasps out. "Please, please--"