As soon as he touched warm flesh he jerked back as if he had been scalded, glaring at Huaisang as if he'd been the cause of it. "I don't even have the oil yet, idiot," Cheng grumbled, snatching the bottle from him.

He spilled it-more like put too much in his hand and cursed again before thrusting the bottle into a cushion to keep it up right. And despite the glower on his face and the way he shoved his hand between them, Cheng's touch was light and questing before one finger is brave enough to breech him. His own stare doesn't turn away. If Huaisang could look at him with just a face, Cheng could do that as well! Though, admittedly, that insecurity is still there in the way he bites his lips together, almost daring Huaisang to say something.