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Cheong Myeong wakes up from a quiet, restrained cough. Im Sobyeong shakes, covering his mouth with his hand, tears welling up in green eyes. And even so, he tries to do it as quietly as possible, so as not to wake the sleeping dragon. Literally. Im Sobyeong, having cleared his throat, returns his head to Cheong Myeong's shoulder, and wipes his hand with a handkerchief from his pocket, putting it back to his chest.
Like a cat playing with its prey, Cheong Myeong smiles, lifting his hand, numb from the other's body, and touching the other's back, limp and powerless, with his fingers. And immediately relaxes, closing his eyes. Im Sobyeong twitches, turns around, but still writes it off to his imagination. Even the second time. Even the third. How twitchy!
Cheong Myeong can't stand it and on the fourth time he begins to laugh quietly, betraying the fact that he has already woken up. He woke up in too good of a mood to raise a fist at anyone, even if he was woken up.
The sun shines through the high curtains, decorating the other's pale face with ceremonial lines. A cough has made his cheeks flush, charming in its fragility. Like pink wine spilled on snow. Without thinking, Cheong Myeong leans down and bites the other's skinny cheek, rolling the skin between his lips, and runs his tongue over it.
No, it still doesn't taste like wine on snow.
* * *
Im Sobyeong almost screams when he turns over in bed and sees a familiar black silhouette in the window. He already expects the usual paralysis - a sign of the coming nightmare - but his hand obediently rises, reflexively covering his head from the moonlight.
"Hey, I wasn't going to hit you!" a familiar voice sounds confused.
"Divine Dragon?" Im Sobyeong throws out a test.
"Pfft. Drop the titles, we're alone," Cheong Myeong lowers his black mask.
And then climbs down from the window into the room, as if it were his home. In a sense, it was - given the nature of their relationship. Your husband's home is your home too, even if they were married without ceremony and celebration, just a few words and a glass of alcohol. Perhaps one day they will make three bows on Mount Hua, in front of other's ancestors, but not anytime soon. So far, only a few people know about their relationship, including Tang Gunak.
"What brought you to..." Im Sobyeong drops the 'middle of the fucking night' out of self-preservation. "At this hour?"
Cheong Myeong undresses, revealing the Huashan warrior's clothes beneath the black rags.
"What? Can't I just visit you?"
"Knowing you... no," Im Sobyeong admits, sitting up in bed.
Cheong Myeong glares at him indignantly, but doesn't object. He wonders what happened this time? Another adventure where he'll have to hold back his cough and fighting technique to keep from giving himself away? Or does he urgently need a drinking buddy? Or... Oh.
"I can't sleep," Cheong Myeong admits before his thoughts take a not entirely decent path. "The chicks have scattered on business, the dorm is disgustingly empty."
Im Sobyeong moves closer, freeing up more space on the heated bed. Cheong Myeong, without waiting for an invitation, takes off his outerwear and lies down under the same blanket, immediately wrapping his limbs around him.
Cheong Myeong is disgustingly cold to the touch.
"Sweet dreams," Im Sobyeong makes himself more comfortable.
An indistinguishable, ready to become a sleepy mooing comes from his chest.
"And I love you."