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HE'S HUGGING ME!!!
I can't believe it…to be here, right next to him…we've spent the night together and then slept in the same bed…woahhh..
Samjo crawls on his elbows and takes a moment to appreciate Dongrang's sleeping form from up close.
He's beautiful…he's so pretty. Gorgeous. Serene…when he doesn't run his mouth. I feel right at home here. He's the only person that I care about, as much as I hate to admit it.
Unable to stop himself, he slides his hand under the nape of Dongrang's neck and gently runs his fingers down his back, feeling the soft fabric of the pretty bleumarin nightgown.
He halts the movements of his scratched, scarred hand, splays it between the scapulas and presses down onto the flesh.
Samjo lazily drags his sore body closer and feels his face get warm. He pouts.
His fingers twitch and he lightly grabs at the material. The other hand slowly taps the feathery, mussed-up pile of green moss on Dongrang's head, as if to test the waters. He feels his hair, thumbing at a few soft locks and tussling them around. He dips his head down and rests it on top of his boyfriend's. It smells of green apple and brown sugar.
Dongrang's arm hangs limply in the air, draped over Samjo's hips.
Samjo doesn't concern himself with Dongrang's beauty sleep. Damn that, he wants to have his moment. The lamebrain might already be awake, pretending to be unconscious for all Samjo cares. He's comfortable and wants to smother his lover with affection. It's…he squints, just about 8AM anyway.
As if on cue, Dongrang wraps his arms around Samjo's lower abdomen in one fluid motion, causing him to flinch. Unable to quickly ease himself into the embrace, the man’s hands ball up into fists, clutching his darling’s hair and clothes, without putting force into it; it's all in an effort to ground himself… He's not particularly used to being touched, so affection can be hard to receive. Learning to be comfortable around someone can take him quite some time.
He's known Dongrang for years, but they haven't really gotten close until relatively recently. Now that he looks back on it and does a little thinking, it's only been a few months since they've started to rendez-vous.
Dongrang exhales softly and sinks away, eyes half-lidded. A tired and unamused expression, laced with the tiniest bit of fondness, graces his face. The bright yellow sun rays melt into his large frame, adding a lukewarm tone to the cool colours. He squints in the general direction of his boyfriend's face, but it's not like he can see the guy particularly well. He slightly purses his lips, presses them to Samjo’s…and squeezes his lower back just a little tighter.
Samjo inhales sharply and closes his eyes. His fingers go slack. The embrace is pleasant.
Wooww. What eyes…
A thought crosses his mind and his mouth runs off before he can reconsider.
“This may sound silly of me, but—agh, Dongrang-nim, can I see your scars?“
“Humm~ Which ones, Samjo~?” he drawls.
Sleepy…just until a moment ago.
“The one from when I accidentally bit into my knee full-force while jumping on the trampoline as a child? The ones from getting attacked by roosters? Or the one from when I got injured while trying to jump over a fence in order to steal plums from my neighbour? Or perhaps—”
“Dongrang…Top surgery, Dongrang.”
“Pfft. Oh, you're no fun, Samjo.” He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, even in the absence of his glasses. What silliness. “Well, I suppose they're mostly healed by now. But…”, he trails off and quietly unbuttons his pyjama shirt, breaking eye contact. “...alright.”
After propping his head up on his elbow, Samjo tries to blink away the butterflies in his stomach…ah, it's too late; they're already fluttering up his throat and threatening to spill from his mouth. Unsuccessful in trying not to get too flustered, he presses his lips into a thin line.
Driven by a simple, single-minded impulse, Samjo takes his hand off of Dongrang's back and, despite halting midway, starts to slowly bring it toward Dongrang's chest, quivering. It slightly retracts and tenses in one small, explosive motion. Dongrang appears to be…entertained? And equally surprised? His mouth forms a small “o”.
He calmly sits up, takes Samjo's hand in his own and firmly holds the fingers, with which he traces the lines under his own pecs, lost in a reverie of his own…maybe, just maybe, in a grassy field blanketed by tall white daisies, drenched in a pleasant rain of black locust petals.
He worries his upper lip, frowning, pauses…and drops Samjo's hand.
The green in his eyes swirls and melts away, into a puddle of awe.
I never would've thought I'd let anyone do this to me in this lifetime…on top of that, I don't feel the slightest discomfort. Even so, this is Samjo and not…ah. Let's not.
He relaxes his muscles with an exhale, quietly observing the motionless and astonished person in front of him.
His gaze flits away from Samjo and to the side. His face wordlessly puckers.
Dongrang's heart flatlines and jumps out of his chest in a cacophonous rapid succession after he feels the mattress dip as his now lover kneels forward, enveloping his shoulders and neck in a gentle yet firm embrace.
It feels weird to have Samjo physically above him, although—it seems like the latter also has a bit more control over the situation…or is he losing it, in actuality?
It takes the man a bit to fully process what's happening and get accustomed to the unfamiliar sensations, until he nuzzles into the toned shoulder and cradles the back diagonally. He yet again acknowledges that his heart rate almost spikes up when Samjo tries to hold in sniffles and shaky, heavy breaths.
Dongrang doesn't ask about it.
Dongrang placidly listens to the pained, suppressed noises.
Maybe he's been numbed by the swirling of dichotomous emotions causing his brains to give out conflicting orders. The only response he siphons out of his body is something purely animalistic…rubbing circles into Samjo's t-shirt. Wide, brief, urgent, dragged-out, lacking a concrete pattern.
He feels out of place.
Samjo eventually relaxes into the embrace, covertly calculating the way to act on a desire of his.
Without a moment's notice, Samjo's arms crush his abdomen…
“a-”
“Swimming and baseball weren't two of my passions for nothing…Dongrang,” he heaves.
Dongrang puffs his chest and holds his breath, feeling himself drown in the sensation. His eyes glaze over.
After swaying them both from side to side for a beat, Samjo eventually releases his coworker's poor unfortunate soul and locks eyes with him.
“I'm hungry.”
That's all he says…and even though Dongrang looks in the general direction of the kitchen, Samjo's gaze lingers.