dear heart (слэш)

There’s a tale in the trail of his hands, on the clouds traced by his fingertips, on the touch of skin. There are years between them, in their synchronized breaths, all the lost moments and opportunities finally fitting together. A meeting under the rain, an understanding long waited.
He whispers “Wei Ying” when he takes too long. It’s barely a whisper, it’s barely words.
He wants. Fingers slightly trembling, unfastening the binds that keep his robes together, letting it all fall apart.
 
Dear heart, tell me your dreams and I’ll tell you the ones I made on the night I saw you first, and the night I met you again.