The morning never quite came. The sky remained veiled, grey with mist, as if it, too, decided to linger in their night.
Xiao was still awake.
Yujin lay half-asleep, his cheek pressed to Xiao's chest, fingers tracing circles lazily against the bone beneath. Every now and then, he hummed—a sound so content, so dangerously home, that Xiao wondered if his heart might forget how to ache ever again.
"You're warm," Yujin murmured. "Like honey that never hardened…"
Xiao turned red down to his chest. He'd never been called sweet in his life.
"You talk too much," he mumbled, though his fingers were combing through Yujin's tangled hair like he was memorizing the strands.
"You like it."
"I'm afraid I do."
They smiled at the same time.
And then, something shifted.
Yujin rolled over slowly, pressing Xiao back into the bed with a strange look in his eyes. Not mischief. Not seduction. But hunger—tender, scared hunger. The kind you see in someone who was always touched too roughly before, and now begs silently: Please... touch me like I matter.
"Let me try too..." Yujin whispered, voice shaking. "Let me make you tremble this time."
Xiao stilled.
He always thought he'd be the one giving, always. But now—Yujin's fingers, lips, breath—every movement wasn't to take, but to offer. To kiss him down his neck with such reverence it made Xiao clutch the sheets.
"You're always the calm one," Yujin said, lips on Xiao's chest. "But let me see you lose it... just once. For me."
And he did.
Xiao arched, bit his knuckles, breathed out Yujin's name like it was a spell. By the end, he was gasping into Yujin's shoulder, his voice cracked open, clinging to him like he'd drown if he let go.
"You're mine now," Yujin said softly, nuzzling his face into Xiao's hair. "The way you tremble? That's mine too."
Xiao didn't speak for a while.
Then, barely audible:
"...Then don't disappear."