Huaisang laughs delightedly at the grumbling about his complicated robes. Wiggling in Doul's grip, he helps to arch and lift himself in order to help get those clothes off. "No respectable sect leader would ever leave his bedroom in fewer than nine layers of clothing."

Grinding himself shamelessly against Doul's thigh, Huaisang whimpers again with want. His hands roam lower, cupping around Doul's cock and stroking at him through the fabric. "Uther Doul."

Finally the last of Huaisang's silken garments drops away, leaving him bared to Doul's view. He's slender and soft, skin unmarked by scars or ink aside from a few stray ink stains on his fingers from his perpetual writing and painting. He has light musculature on his arms and chest from the minimal daily Nie Sect exercises he performs, but his belly is soft and padded from his love of cakes.