He shoved the waistband of his pants down, just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick and flushed dark, beading with a drop of clear moisture at the tip. He stared at it, at the proof of his own functioning body, and a hysterical laugh bubbled in his chest.
'Impotent... yeah right,' he thought as his hand closed around the base. The skin was hot, so fucking hot, and silken smooth. He gave a tentative stroke, from root to tip. His whole body shuddered. 'Yu Xi.' The thought wasn't a whisper. It was a shout in his skull.
He imagined it wasn't his own hand. He imagined those slender, long fingers wrapping around him. A grip that was both firm and knowing. He imagined Yu Xi's face, those sharp, composed features contorted with a hunger to match his own.
