Sizhui's a bit flustered by the fact his overzealousness and the motions of the train have made Itto almost choke, though the way he reacts doesn't mirror the cultivator's reaction; he seemed to have liked that? Which, of course, does make Sizhui blush harder, his hands briefly withdrawing to lower to the seat he's perched on and grip the edge after Itto's pulled off his dick. His breath comes in heavy, shaky exhales, clearly conveying how worked up he's gotten, his skin peppered with goosebumps at the cool air.

The eye-contact only furthers his arousal and when Itto asks if he can handle him more roughly, it's practically instinctive to reach out and grasp both his horns once he goes back down on his cock. “Okay,” he manages through a gasp, “but only because you asked so nicely.” And because Itto's still enjoying himself. He waits a moment for Itto to be prepared then shifts his hips upward at the same time as he's pulling Itto's head down, keeping control over him by holding his horns. Again, he's fully enveloped in that warm, wet heat, and can't resist crying out at the absolute pleasurable sensation shooting throughout his entire body.