Jiang laughs at Proko's impatience. He makes quick work of Proko's shirt as well, and then of his pants, and then of his shorts. He just needs to get to skin. He needs to see the stuff that Proko is made of, from those uneven shoulders to those knobbly knees, and his long, slim cock.

He trails a finger over Proko's ribs. "Eat a fuckin' sandwich, son."