˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
. ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ .
ᶻ𝗓𐰁
. ݁ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ˖ . ݁ ݁ .
Qin didn’t sleep well.
Floating in that strange, light kind of sleep, he could feel that something was off.
Something was missing.
Someone was missing.
It lingered at the edges of his awareness, subtle but insistent, like a silence where there should have been warmth, like reaching for something in the dark and finding only empty space. His body noticed before his mind did—the absence settling deep, quiet and wrong, pulling him in and out of shallow rest without ever letting him sink.
He slowly opened his eyes. His face was half-buried in the pillow, cheek pressed into the cool fabric. He blinked into the darkness of the night, letting his gaze adjust to the pale way the moon lit the room. The soft silver was spilling across the floorboards, tracing the edges of the furniture.
Then his arm moved, slow and instinctive, reaching out to the space beside him, his fingers were searching through the quiet.
Finding nothing.
The sheets were cool.
Undisturbed.
Not even slightly wrinkled, still tucked in the way they had been when he’d collapsed into bed after his long day. The space beside him hadn’t been touched since he’d crawled under the covers, almost dead from exhaustion after that concluding, brutal week. Deadlines were firing one after another, days were bleeding into sleepless nights. His body finally gave out somewhere between the shower and bed.
He’d barely managed to eat something small and fast, before falling into what he thought would be just a nap.
The room felt, in that exact second, impossibly empty.
The silence was too heavy. The air felt too still. Qin shifted, lifting his head from the pillow with effort—his neck was stiff, his limbs weighted down by the fatigue—and looked toward the other side of the bed, finding nothing but an empty space where something—someone—should have been.
And suddenly, that quiet wrongness got a shape.
Duang wasn't there.
Oh.
Huh?
A dull, quiet ache suddenly bloomed somewhere behind his ribs.
Not instantly panic.
Something softer.
Something that knew the shape of absence too well.
He hasn't come home yet?
Qin turned his head toward the clock on the nightstand, squinting at the glowing numbers.
2:17.
Hm.
That was… surprising. His nap, then, had lasted for nearly seven hours long. Seven hours of that shallow, useless sleep that left him feeling no better than before—as if he hadn’t rested at all.
He reached instinctively for his phone. His fingers brushed against the bare surface of the nightstand before registering its absence.
Where did I leave it?
Then, his gaze caught the faint light seeping from under the bedroom door—a thin, golden crack against the dark.
His body moved before his mind fully agreed.
He pushed himself up, heavy and sluggish. His limbs kept protesting with every motion. The warmth of the blankets clung to his skin, reluctant to let him go, but he forced himself to rise anyway.
The warmth of the rug met the soles of his feet, and he stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, gathering what little strength he had left in his tired limbs to leave the cozy cocoon of the bed and go check on the light.
As he opened the door, he squinted. The lights were brighter than he expected, a soft but insistent glow that spilled from the living room, reaching for him like fingers of pale gold.
It wasn't harsh, exactly, but after the velvety darkness of the bedroom, it felt like surfacing from deep water into the first light of dawn.
His eyes stung, adjusting.
He blinked once, then twice.
And, after a few seconds that passed and he got used to it, he found his little light there.
Qin leaned against the doorframe. His heart eased just a little at the sight.
There, in the middle of the room.
The sight of his own light.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
On the floor.
Duang was sitting—or rather, he had been sitting, at some point, before exhaustion had finally claimed him.
Now he was curled on the worn rug near the couch, surrounded by the evidence of his labor like a small island in a sea of creation.
His legs were folded beneath him in a way that would surely ache when he woke—one foot was tucked under his thigh, the other one was stretched out slightly, toes curling against the rough fibers of the rug. It looked like his upper body had given in gradually, inch by inch, as sleep pulled him under—first his shoulders slumped, then his spine softened into a curve. His head kept tipping forward, until he came to rest with his cheek pressed against his canvas. His breath faintly stirred the edge of it washed in soft watercolor hues.
His brushes were scattered around him like fallen soldiers—some still holding the memory of color in their bristles, others rinsed clean and forgotten in a cup of water that had long since gone murky.
Tubes of paint lay uncapped, and their contents have already begun to dry in small, wrinkled beads at the openings.
A palette sat beside his hip, a galaxy of colors swirled together in the center where he'd been mixing. The edges were still holding the pure pigments he'd squeezed out hours ago—a cadmium red, a deep ultramarine and a warm yellow that had begun to skin over.
The glass of water sat on the table, cloudy with sediment, with a faint ring of color that stained its rim.
And in the center of it all, Duang, was sleeping quietly.
His face was turned toward the canvas, his cheek was pressed against a half-finished painting that was still wet enough to have left a faint smudge of color on his skin—a soft bloom of blue-green just below his cheekbone, like a bruise made of pigment.
His lips were slightly parted, and his breath was slow and even. His lashes—dark crescents against his cheeks. The lamplight from the corner pooled around him, catching in his hair, illuminating the soft curve of his ear and the delicate line of his jaw.
He looked, Qin thought with a sudden tightness in his chest, impossibly soft.
And impossibly tired.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
Qin’s gaze moved over him slowly, taking in every detail, letting himself linger a bit there, quietly observing.
He let the coziness of the moment sink softly into him, settling somewhere deep in his chest like a warmth he didn’t want to disturb.
There was a smudge of color on Duang's temple, a soft bloom of ultramarine blue that had probably transferred from his fingers when he'd pushed his hair back, or maybe when he'd rubbed his face in that unconscious, adorable gesture he had when he was concentrating.
Adorable, Qin thought, though it wasn't something he would willingly say aloud. The thought felt too tender, too intimate to disturb with the clumsiness of words.
The blue, in contrast, was almost luminous against his pale skin, like a small, accidental mark that made him look even softer.
So dear.
Meanwhile, his hair was a total disaster.
Qin almost smiled at that, almost boldly enough to let it show.
Duang’s dark ginger strands had fallen across his forehead in the most endearing little mess—some were still tucked neatly behind his ear, others were curling softly toward his cheek, leaving his temple bare, like an unbearably sweet little spot made for a kiss.
There was a streak of something warm—burnt sienna, maybe—just above it, and Qin found himself wanting to reach out, to brush his fingers over it and to see if it was still damp.
God—he looked so kissable.
Qin's gaze lingered on Duang's hands, because he always lingered—those hands of someone who worked, who created and poured himself into things until there was almost nothing left to pour.
Now he noticed how the fingers of Duang's right hand were still slightly curved, as if they were remembering the shape of the brush they'd been holding when sleep finally claimed him.
And they were so still now.
So quiet.
The slight tremor that Qin had noticed over the past few days—the fine quivering of too much caffeine, too little sleep and too many hours of holding a brush steady—was smoothed away now, by sleep.
Qin could see the way his t-shirt had ridden up slightly at the back, exposing a narrow strip of skin above the waistband of his sweatpants, and the sight of it—that small, vulnerable sliver of warmth—made Qin want to cover him, to wrap him up and tuck him in so snugly that nothing in the world could reach him.
Not a single deadline that made his puppy so tired.
So achingly drained.
For a fleeting moment, Qin nearly gave in to the tenderness of it.
But he didn't move.
Not yet.
He stood in the doorway, letting the sight of Duang wash over him, letting the reality of him—tired and paint-stained and so beautiful it almost hurt—settle into the spaces that had been empty all day.
Because that was the thing, wasn't it?
Qin had been gone for hours. His own deadline had pulled him out of the apartment early that morning, consuming him so completely that he’d barely had time to think about anything else.
Even about his Duang.
And now, coming home—back to this space that was theirs, filled with warmth and the familiar scent of his puppy, back to him—something inside him finally loosened.
This little place had become their own quiet bubble, soft and safe and impossibly precious. Somewhere Qin could come back to at the end of everything and simply hold the person he loved. Somewhere that gave him a reason to keep going, just for the thought of coming home to this.
To his Duang.
He’d missed it more than he knew how to say.
God, he missed him.
And now that he was here, standing in the doorway and watching Duang sleep so peacefully, Qin felt at peace again.
There was something almost overwhelming about how grateful he was for this. For him. For having one person he could trust so completely—with his heart, his life and every soft and unguarded part of himself.
Just looking at Duang made the world feel gentler. Less rough around the edges. Safer, even.
As if, with him here, love really could exist. As if Qin had finally found somewhere he could belong.
Qin’s chest ached with it.
That familiar, soft ache that came from loving someone so much that their tiredness became your own, and their vulnerability became something you wanted to gently cup in your hands and keep safe.
He wanted to scoop Duang up, carry him to bed, tuck him in beneath the blankets, and hold him until the exhaustion softened from his being.
But for now, all he could do was stay here and take care of him in the little ways he could.
In the quiet presence that might, if he was lucky, seep into Duang's dreams and let him know he wasn't alone.
Because his Qin was here.
Right here, for him.
For his Duang.
Home.
So, Qin moved.
He stepped carefully over a tube of paint—cobalt blue, he noted, because he’d learned once he got to know, one of Duang's favorites to use—and crouched down beside him, lowering himself to the floor with the slowness of someone who was also, if he was honest, running on fumes.
His knees protested against the hard floor, but he ignored them, settling onto the rug beside Duang, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his sleeping body, and close enough to see the way his lashes fluttered slightly when Qin's weight shifted the floorboards.
The lamplight fell across Duang's face, illuminating the soft curve of his cheek and his slightly parted lips. His breath was coming in slow, deep, even waves.
Up close, his exhaustion was even more visible—the slight pallor of his skin, the way his lashes seemed darker than usual against the softness of his cheeks.
Qin reached out and let his hand come to rest on Duang’s back, just between his shoulder blades, his palm settled there with quiet tenderness. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Duang’s breathing beneath it, warm and reassuring, and something soft unfurled in his chest.
And as if sensing the touch, Duang shifted a little beneath his hand, unconsciously leaning into the warmth. A tiny, sleepy mumble escaped him, almost a whine, so soft and endearing that Qin couldn’t help the fondness that bloomed even deeper.
Qin’s favorite source of happiness.
Even the apartment seemed to grow quieter around them, every distant sound faded into the background until there was only this small, peaceful moment—the warmth beneath his palm, Duang’s slow breathing, and the gentle weight of his presence, simply being this close.
To his heart.
For a moment, it felt as though the whole universe had softened around his favorite person.
His Duang.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
— Duang, — Qin murmured, so softly that the word was barely more than a breath, — Let's get you to bed properly.
At the sound of that, muffled though it was by what looked like the sweetest sleep, Duang gave only a tiny, drowsy murmur and melted deeper into the warmth beside him, as if the very idea of moving were a completely unreasonable request. His breathing remained slow and even and his face relaxed with the heavy softness of someone who had already drifted halfway into sleep.
Qin’s expression softened.
Of course.
He slowly moved his hand from Duang’s back to his forehead, letting his palm settle gently against it. His thumb brushed back and forth in small, absentminded strokes, smoothing softly over his hairline. Duang responded almost immediately, tilting his head ever so slightly into Qin’s hand, like a puppy being scratched behind the ear, instinctively leaning closer, almost seeming to ask for just a little more.
A fond little smile tugged at Qin’s lips.
— Duang, — he whispered, leaning a little closer until his breath ghosted warm against the shell of Duang's ear. — Qin wants his sleepy puppy in bed.
That earned him another indistinct mumble. Qin huffed the quietest laugh, while his thumb continued its gentle rhythm against Duang’s forehead, tracing slow, soothing circles through the fine hairs at his temple.
— Right now.
But Duang’s only response was to nuzzle closer into his palm, his cheek settling more comfortably against the warmth of Qin’s hand. He seemed to have no intention whatsoever of acknowledging the request. Instead, he gave a tiny, sleepy whine and shifted until he was practically melting into Qin’s touch, like a puppy too comfortable to consider getting up.
Qin’s smile widened.
There was something unbearably endearing about him like this, when he simply followed whatever warmth found him, trusting, leaving behind everything but a soft, clingy little creature who seemed convinced that Qin’s palm was the safest place in the world.
His nose scrunched faintly when Qin’s thumb brushed across his forehead again, and another sleepy mumble escaped him, followed by one more of his tiniest nuzzle into Qin’s touch.
Qin almost laughed.
— Duang.
Qin let the moment linger. His fingers carded slowly through Duang’s tousled hair, smoothing the strands back from his forehead as he watched the tiny changes in his expression.
Duang shifted a little closer to the warmth of Qin’s hand, making another quiet, sleepy sound whenever Qin’s fingers paused.
It was almost comical how completely unwilling he was to wake up, and yet, even through the haze of sleep, Duang still seemed to recognize and cling to the every bit of affection Qin was giving him. He answered every tender touch in his own sleepy way, as though he wanted to give back every bit of warmth he was being given.
Qin smiled to himself.
After a while, he noticed the small movements beginning to stir through Duang and he gently carded his fingers through his hair again, quietly daring to wake this sleepy puppy just enough to get him somewhere more comfortable.
Because he really couldn’t leave him like this.
Because Qin couldn’t settle into sleep properly without knowing Duang was nearby, warm and safe and within reach.
Because without Duang, Qin couldn’t sleep at all.
Because there was no Qin anymore without his Duang near him.
And there simply couldn’t be any Duang behind any walls, away from Qin.
— 'er..., — Duang stirred quietly.
His lashes fluttered once and his eyes opened only a sliver before narrowing again, still too heavy with sleep to make sense of anything around him.
The world was a blur of shadows and dim light.
All until he finally registered Qin’s breath close by. His exhausted brain seemed to take a moment to catch up, and his eyes opened a little wider as he blinked sleepily.
Then, once he realized it was his Qin looking down at him with such fondness, the sweetest, sleepiest little smile slowly appeared on his lips.
He blinked again, slow and heavy-lidded, before instinctively nuzzling even further into the hand resting against his head. The movement was so trusting and content that Qin couldn’t help but smile.
If Duang had a tail, Qin was certain it would be wagging furiously by now.
— Qin…
His voice was barely audible, soft with sleep and almost impossibly sweet. Qin had to look away for a moment as his fond smile widened, but his fingers never stopped moving through Duang’s hair, gently combing the tousled strands back from his forehead.
The moment Qin shifted, however, Duang noticed.
His brows pinched together, and his sleepy expression immediately turned into a tiny pout. He followed the warmth of Qin’s hand for a moment before making a long, plaintive little whine.
— Qinnnnnn…
There was quiet accusation in that single, drawn-out word.
Qin looked back at him with an innocent expression that fooled absolutely no one.
— What?
Duang stared at him. Qin lasted approximately two seconds before a soft smile betrayed him again.
— You need to take a shower, — he said, gently patting the top of Duang’s head.
Duang’s face fell.
— Mnhhh…
— Duang.
His tiny pout only grew, becoming almost comically childish.
— Duang is tired.
— I know.
— No shower.
— Yes, shower.
Duang made a soft, miserable little noise and immediately leaned back into Qin’s hand, as though being sufficiently adorable might somehow change the verdict.
— Terrrrr...
Qin’s heart nearly gave in.
Nearly.
He patted his head again, smoothing his hair down.
— Duang.
A pair of sleepy puppy eyes slowly looked up at him.
Qin sighed.
— You stink.
Duang froze.
His expression crumpled into the most genuinely betrayed little how could you do this to me? face Qin had ever seen. His brows drew together, his lips fell into an exaggerated pout, and for a second he looked like the world’s most wronged puppy.
Qin instantly wanted to laugh. And, unfortunately, wanted to squish that adorable expression even more.
But he held himself together.
— I do?
— Yes. Like a dog.
Duang’s eyes widened.
— Qinnnn…!
The protest came out much louder this time, though it still lacked enough energy to sound genuinely threatening. Instead, it quickly dissolved into another sleepy whine as Duang buried his face against Qin’s hand, as though hiding from the terrible accusation might somehow make it untrue.
— No…
Qin ruffled his hair.
— Yes.
— Nooo…
— Very much yes.
Duang lifted his head just enough to glare at him through his lashes. It was hardly intimidating. With his tousled hair, heavy eyelids, and enormous pout, he looked even more like a sleepy puppy who had just been told he was not allowed on the sofa.
Qin gently tapped his forehead.
— Come on. Shower first. Then bed.
— Mnhhh...
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
Qin coaxed him gently to his feet by tugging him up lightly at the fabric of his t-shirt. Duang rose like a puppet with tangled strings, all loose limbs and heavy eyelids, his body swayed before he'd even found his balance.
They made the short walk toward the bedroom. It was hardly a walk at all. Duang shuffled beside him with heavy, sleepy steps, leaning into Qin whenever his balance wavered. His fingers reached almost instinctively for Qin’s hand whenever he drifted even a little too far away.
Qin stayed close, matching every unsteady step.
— Come on, Duang, — he murmured.
His eyes found Duang’s in the dim light as he tilted his head just slightly. His gaze held Duang’s, gently keeping his attention anchored on him.
— Be a good boy for me.
Duang’s breath hitched, and an instant later, a tiny, sleepy hum escaped him in response. Even through the haze of sleep, Duang seemed to understand. His heavy-lidded eyes kept lingering on Qin’s face as he followed his voice and the quiet reassurance in it.
He felt tired. Every muscle in his body was heavy and warm, as though made of lead, pulling him relentlessly toward sleep. His limbs seemed to move a moment behind his thoughts, and even keeping his eyes open felt like an effort.
But his Qin was asking. His Qin was looking at him with those dark, patient eyes, and Duang wanted—needed—to be good for him. For his Qin. For his Ter.
The whine came again, softer this time, as Duang’s brow furrowed with the effort of staying present.
His hand found Qin’s and held on with surprising determination. He blinked slowly as he tried to focus on Qin’s face through the haze of sleep.
He wanted to be good.
— Mm…
Duang’s head tipped against Qin’s shoulder, instinctively chasing the warmth there. He nuzzled closer with a tiny, sleepy movement, much like a puppy seeking reassurance, and his fingers tightened around Qin’s hand as though that small point of contact was all the encouragement he needed to keep going.
— Qin..., — his voice was barely a whisper, thick with exhaustion and something softer. — Wanna be good... f'you...
His eyes fluttered closed, then opened again, fighting the pull of sleep.
Qin looked down at his Duang, taking in the trust written across his sleep-soft features and the way he clung to Qin’s hand as though it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.
A warm wave swept through Qin’s chest, softening something deep inside him. There was something so tender about the quiet love Duang gave him without even thinking—how naturally he reached for Qin with all his gentleness, how easily he trusted him with everything he had, how instinctively he sought even more of Qin when he was too sleepy to manage on his own.
Qin’s fingers gently intertwined with Duang’s in return.
He was so unbearably precious like this.
— You’re already doing so well, puppy, — Qin whispered, as his nose brushed gently against Duang’s soft, dark-ginger hair. — You’re so good, Duang.
Duang's whine melted into a contented hum, and he pressed a clumsy, sleepy kiss to Qin's shoulder.
Good. He was being good. For Qin. For his Ter.
And that was all that mattered.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
Qin guided him gently down onto the edge of the bed, supporting him as he settled. The moment Duang’s head tipped back with the shift of his weight, Qin instinctively caught him by the front of his collar, keeping him steady.
Duang made a tiny, sleepy sound and, instead of straightening, simply gave up on holding himself and leaned forward until his forehead came to rest against Qin’s soft stomach. His entire body relaxed with a quiet little sigh. A soft, whiny sound of relief escaped him.
Then, almost immediately, his hand reached for Qin again. His fingers closed around Qin’s wrist holding on with sleepy determination.
Qin smiled gently and patted Duang’s head with his other palm again.
— I’m not going anywhere, Duang.
Duang whined quietly again, keeping his eyes closed. The darkness of the bedroom seemed to make his limbs heavy all over again, turning the world soft and hazy around him. Yet somehow, he still had enough strength to keep hold of Qin’s hand, as his fingers kept stubbornly refusing to let go.
Meanwhile, Qin reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. A tiny, muffled puppy-like cry immediately followed.
Qin paused, amused, then carefully helped Duang get ready for his shower, moving slowly and giving him plenty of time whenever his tired body seemed reluctant to cooperate. Throughout it all, Qin kept one palm intertwined with his, letting Duang hold as tightly as he needed.
Eventually, though, the warmth and exhaustion won and Duang’s head began to droop.
His blinks grew slower, and then, in the middle of Qin helping him, his fingers loosened slightly around Qin’s hand as his eyes slipped completely closed.
He was all soft and fallen asleep again.
Qin stared at him for a moment.
— Duang?
As a response, Qin got nothing but a soft, even breath.
His own expression melted. The warm light around them made Duang’s features look almost childlike in their softness, every line of his face was relaxed and plush with sleep. His puppy looked completely exhausted and Qin wanted nothing more than to let him sleep.
But he also knew they needed to get rid of the tiredness and all the lingering tension of the day before letting Duang properly collapse into the warmth of clean sheets, blankets and their gentle hugs. He wanted him comfortable, properly safe and warm and able to rest without anything bothering him.
So, as much as he disliked disturbing him, Qin knew he had to wake his sleepy puppy once more.
He pointed a finger in the softness and thickness of Duang's cheek, and it appeared warm and impossibly plush beneath his fingertip. Qin’s chest filled with an insistent warmth when Duang’s lips formed the tiniest, most adorable pout. He slowly withdrew his finger, but the expression only made him smile even more.
How was he supposed to resist that?
Qin leaned a little closer, hovering there for a moment as he quietly took in Duang’s peaceful face. His breathing was soft and steady and his entire expression completely unguarded.
Qin wanted to kiss that little pout so badly now.
Instead, he lowered himself a little more, just enough to nuzzle close, giving Duang’s cheek and hair a soft, affectionate sniff, scrunching his nose slightly at the overwhelming cuteness of his sleepy boyfriend.
Duang shifted a bit and a tired but soft smile slowly appeared on his lips. His eyelids fluttered little by little, and, as his eyes slowly opened, for a moment, he only blinked, still trying to understand the face so close to his.
Then his gaze found Qin’s. Warm and so completely focused on him. The gentle warmth of Qin’s presence seemed to surround him like a blanket, and Duang’s sleepy smile grew just a fraction wider.
— Qin…
Duang’s voice came out rough with sleep, but Qin was still relieved to catch that familiar little sparkle in his dark eyes—the warmth that told him Duang was finally awake enough to follow him.
Qin gently slipped a hand beneath his chin, giving the smallest indication for him to straighten and Duang obediently tried. The moment he lifted his head, however, a sharp pulse of pain caught him at the neck.
— Mmnh…
A quiet groan escaped him. His eyes squeezed shut, and his features pinched together as he instinctively brought a hand toward the sore spot. For a moment, every little flicker of discomfort showed plainly across his face.
Qin’s expression softened immediately.
— Slowly, Duang. Don’t force it.
He waited until the tension in Duang’s shoulders eased before helping him move again, careful and unhurried.
By the time they reached the bathroom, Duang was awake enough to notice the cool air against his skin. He paused, suddenly realizing just how little warmth remained around him after getting ready for the shower.
A tiny shiver ran through him.
Without saying anything, he simply stepped closer, curling himself around Qin’s smaller frame again. His hands reached instinctively for Qin’s palms, craving their warmth, the softness and the familiar comfort they always seemed to carry.
He tucked himself closer against Qin’s warmth, breathing quietly near his shoulder as his fingers curled around Qin’s wrists. There was something almost instinctive about the way he sought Qin out like this, as though Qin’s warmth was the safest place the puppy could find.
Qin could feel Duang gradually relaxing against him again and the tension slowly leaving his tired body as he held on just a little tighter.
Qin smiled softly and shifted them toward the shower. Duang only made a sleepy little hum in response, refusing to move away.
Qin kept an arm securely around him, rubbing his back in slow, reassuring strokes.
— Let’s get you warm again, hm?
After another soft moment of silence, Duang finally gave a tiny nod, still clinging to him for another few seconds before allowing himself to be guided toward the shower.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
The bathroom slowly filled with warmth as the shower ran and steam was gathering softly against the mirror, turning the harsh edges of the room hazy. The light was low and gentle, leaving everything wrapped in a quiet, sleepy glow that softened shadows and blurred the lines between dream and waking.
The air smelled like sandalwood and something floral—the fragrance oil Duang had bought last week, insisting it would make them both smell pretty. And it did. The scent bloomed in the steam, warm and intimate, wrapping around them like an embrace. The soft amber glow of the wall sconces painted everything in warm honey tones, bouncing off the cream tiles and catching in the droplets of condensation already forming on the mirror.
Duang remained close to Qin, still reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand around Qin’s wrist, holding on with that sleepy, stubborn grip of his, while Qin carefully guided him beneath the warm water, making sure it wasn't too hot in advance, testing it with his free wrist the way he always did.
The water cascaded over Duang's shoulders, warm and perfect, and a quiet sigh escaped him.
— There, — Qin murmured. — Better?
Duang gave a tiny nod and his lips parted slightly as the warmth seeped into his skin. He tilted his face up, meeting the soft droplets, and let the water run over his cheeks, his eyelids and the curve of his jaw. He looked like he was melting, piece by piece, and Qin watched him with a tenderness that ached somewhere deep in his chest.
Duang's grip on Qin's wrist loosened as he relaxed, his hand falling away as he surrendered to the warmth. Qin used the moment to pat his hand gently—a small reassurance—and then carefully guided Duang closer to the tiled wall, steadying him, before stepping back. He slipped out of the shower and quickly undressed, tossing his clothes into the washing bag where Duang's already lay tangled together—cotton and denim and soft worn fabric, mingling like they belonged.
The next thing Duang felt was the familiar warmth of Qin's palms on his shoulders, strong and steady, sliding down the length of his back in a slow, gentle path. He slightly shivered and turned sleepily to face his favourite pretty Ter.
Qin's palms slid up again, thumbs stroking over the warm, wet skin of Duang's shoulders, tracing the elegant line of his collarbones with unbearable gentleness. Duang leaned again into the touch, and his eyes fluttered closed.
— Warm, — he mumbled, pressing closer. His forehead found the curve of Qin's neck, and he breathed in—deep and slow—filling his lungs with the familiar scent of his Ter—the faint spice of his cologne, faded from the day and something warm and uniquely home.
Duang nuzzled closer, his nose brushed against Qin's pulse point, as a small, contented hum rumbled in his chest.
— Mm, — he breathed, the sound vibrated against Qin's skin. — Smell good.
Qin smiled softly as his hands slid down Duang's arms, fingers intertwining with his, and he guided them both back under the warm water.
The cascade enveloped them again. The steam wrapped around them softly and heavily, curling against their skin like a second layer. Qin reached for the washcloth, but, an instant later, Duang's hand softly caught his wrist, stopping him.
— Let me, — Duang murmured, his voice was still rough with sleep but clearer now, more present. He took the cloth from Qin's fingers and dipped it into the warm water. The soft terrycloth absorbed the heat, growing heavy and damp in his hand, and he brought it to the body wash—pressing it against the bottle, letting the fragrant liquid soak into the fibers.
The fragrance of the shower soap bloomed in the warmth—jasmine and vanilla and something green, like crushed leaves after rain. It unfurled through the steam, delicate and rich, as it mixed with the smell of their skin, the scent of wet hair, and the faint saltiness of the water itself. It curled around them like a living thing, wrapping them in a cocoon of softness that felt almost tangible. It was intimate and hazy, like a dream they were both sharing, and it belonged only to them—to this moment, to the quiet rhythm of their breathing and the warmth blooming in their chests.
Qin watched, utterly still, as Duang brought the cloth to his chest. The first touch was featherlight, as the soft terrycloth was gliding over Qin's pale skin, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Duang moved with agonizing slowness, tracing the lines of Qin's pectorals, the dip of his sternum and the ridges of his abdomen.
His free hand came up to steady himself, palm flat against Qin's stomach, feeling the subtle tremor that ran through him.
— Beautiful, — Duang whispered, the words slipping out like a secret, while his eyes followed his hand with sleepy concentration. — Always so beautiful, Qin.
Qin's throat tightened. He reached out, cupping Duang's jaw, tilting his face up. The water streamed over them both, plastering Duang's hair to his forehead, making his eyes look impossibly dark and soft.
Duang's movements slowed. His hand stilled against Qin's chest as he turned his head. His lips found Qin's palm, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the center of it. He nuzzled into its warmth—cheek rubbing against Qin's skin like a puppy seeking affection. A sweet, sleepy smile curved his lips, and his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the familiar, comforting scent of his Ter. The jasmine and vanilla clung to Qin's skin and Duang let it wash over him like a balm.
Qin's heart clenched. He shifted closer and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of Duang's jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin and the wetness of the comforting water on his own lips. He lingered there for a moment, letting Duang feel the weight of his affection in that single, tender press.
Meanwhile, his other hand slid up again, covering Duang's where it rested against his own chest. Their fingers intertwined as he leaned in even closer. His lips brushed gently against the shell of Duang's ear, and his breath felt warm and intimate against the damp skin, as he almost purred:
— My turn.
Qin took the cloth from Duang's unresisting fingers.
— Let me take care of you, puppy.
Qin pulled back just enough to look at him, and Duang's eyes opened slowly, heavy-lidded and trusting. Qin worked slowly, tracing gently every inch of Duang's sun-kissed skin. The sharp jut of his collarbones, the graceful curve of his shoulders, the soft give of his stomach, the dip of his waist and the strong line of his hips.
He was careful and endlessly gentle, never letting go of the palm pressed softly against his puppy’s face. Duang kept nuzzling into it, occasionally brushing sleepy little kisses against Qin’s palm and forearm and whispering soft, half-mumbled words that reached Qin’s ears only as fragments of pure, trusting affection.
Qin didn’t let go. Maybe it was because Duang was holding onto him with so much love and tenderness. Or maybe it was simply because Qin wasn’t willing to let go of him either, secretly seeking the familiar warmth of Duang beneath his palm with the same quiet intensity.
His thumb kept tracing slow, absent patterns against the damp warmth of Duang's cheek. The water streamed over them both, but Qin barely noticed—all his attention was fixed on his lover in his arms, and on the way Duang's lips moved against his palm in soft, continuous kisses.
Meanwhile, Duang stood still. His senses filled deeply with the warmth, sweet scents and love. He felt so comforted and soft and even more sleepy, while his limbs were growing heavy again and his eyelids were drooping. Relaxed and trusting, he shifted closer and leaned on his Ter. His hands slid up to rest on Qin's shoulders and his forehead dropped to rest against Qin's collarbone.
— Duang, you are heavy, — Qin murmured, but there was no real complaint in his voice—only fondness and warmth.
— Mnhhh, — Duang hummed in response, not moving an inch, as his body was going even more pliant against Qin's.
Then, Qin took the opportunity to gently wash Duang’s back, moving the washcloth in slow, soothing circles. He was careful around his shoulders and neck, never rushing, letting the warm water and gentle rhythm ease away the last remnants of the day’s exhaustion.
He hugged him close as he worked, one arm wrapped around Duang's waist to keep him steady, and he felt Duang's hold getting tighter in response—still soft and gentle, but filled with the unconscious need of someone seeking tender comfort.
When Qin put the washcloth aside, his hands returned to Duang's skin, smoothing over the warm, wet expanse of his back under the streaming water. He traced the curve of his spine, the dip of his lower back and the delicate nape of his neck. When his fingers found Duang's jaw, he gently tilted his sleepy face up.
Duang responded to the touch by letting go of his hold on Qin's shoulders—just a bit, just enough to look up. His eyes were dark and glossy, half-lidded with sleep, but they still found Qin's with a soft, adoring focus. His nose twitched, and he sniffed closer to Qin's cheek, seeking that familiar warmth of his Ter, breathing him in deeply. His lips parted slightly, and he leaned in, drawn by an invisible pull.
Qin's hold went more rigid. His breath caught. He changed the angle, tilting Duang's face just so, and finally kissed him.
The kiss was impossibly soft, like the brush of a petal against skin. Like the first touch of sunlight after a long night, Qin's lips met Duang's with the gentlest pressure, barely there, a whisper of a warmth that said more than any passionate embrace ever could. It was tender and unhurried, a soft exploration of devotion and trust. Qin's thumb stroked Duang's cheekbone as he kissed him again, and again, while Duang's lips were pliant and sweet beneath his, tasting faintly of the shower water and love. The water streamed over their intertwined bodies, and the kiss went on and on—soft, perfect, and impossibly tender.
When Qin finally let go, pulling back just a fraction, Duang made a small, unsatisfied whine. The sound was high and needy, and he immediately burrowed closer, hugging his Ter onto his neck. His arms tightened around Qin's shoulders like he'd never let go. His face pressed into the curve of Qin's throat, and he breathed him in deeply.
A soft, contented sigh escaped Qin as his arms came up around Duang, one hand splaying across Duang's lower back, the other cradling the back of his head. He rubbed slow, soothing circles against Duang's spine, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm.
— I love you too, Duang, — Qin whispered against his wet hair. — So much.
Duang hugged him even tighter in response. His fingers curled into the damp skin of Qin's back, and he pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to Qin's neck.
— Mm, — he hummed, and the sound vibrated against Qin's sensitive skin. — Love you. Love you. Love you.
And they stood there, wrapped in each other's warmth, as the world outside had long since faded away.
Because only this remained.
Only them.
And the soft, steady beat of two hearts, beating as one.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
As Qin pulled slightly away, with the intent of washing his puppy's hair now—and also slightly afraid Duang might just fall asleep like that again, his palms came up to cup that adorable, sleepy face. Duang's expression immediately shifted into a pout as he felt the warmth he'd been clinging to so closely shift away, his brow furrowed and his lower lip pushed out in that irresistible way. He was unwilling to let go, so his fingers still loosely curled against Qin's waist, holding on with sleepy determination.
Qin's palms rested on Duang's cheeks, while his thumbs kept rubbing slow, gentle circles against the soft skin there. He watched Duang's peaceful expression—those closed eyelids, the long, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks and the way his nose crinkled slightly as some water droplets continued to fall onto his face. Not uncomfortable or disturbing, just ticklish, making his nose twitch adorably every few seconds.
Qin analyzed closer from up here, his beloved puppy. His gaze traced every detail—the curve of his jaw, the soft flush on his cheeks, the way his lips were still slightly parted from the kiss. And then, he noticed it, a small smudge of blue near his temple, and a faint trace of green on his flushed cheekbone. And he was so sure that the ones on Duang's fingers, which never really fully washed, were also still there.
His heart softened. He leaned in then again, landing another soft kiss on Duang's nose—feeling the tiny crinkle of it beneath his lips and the warmth of his skin. With his eyes, he found the washing oil on the ledge, reached for it, and with the ease of practiced familiarity, opened it one-handed while his other still cradled Duang's face.
He moved then even more, shifting to get better access, but Duang was already too sleepy and melted and soft to protest. He simply surrendered to Qin’s care without another complaint, his tired body relaxing completely as he let himself be guided. Even then, his palms never quite left Qin’s waist, holding on with sleepy determination as though Qin were his anchor.
Qin poured some oil into his palm, and the fragrance of baby wash bloomed in the warm air. He rubbed his hands together, warming the oil between his palms, and then brought them carefully to Duang's face.
He started with the smudge on his temple, wiping it away with the gentlest pressure. His thumb traced the curve of Duang's cheekbone, removing the green paint with slow, careful strokes. He was gentle around every little smudge, his touch featherlight, not wanting to disturb his puppy's peaceful state.
Then he took Duang's hands, one by one, cradling them in his own. He wiped each finger clean, working the oil into the creases where paint had dried, rubbing until the color lifted from his skin. Each finger was tended to with the same care, the same devotion, and Duang's fingers curled weakly around his as if even in sleep, he knew he was being cared for.
Finally, Qin returned to his face, carefully washing the last traces of paint from his cheeks, from the corner of his eye, and from the curve of his jaw. His movements were slow and soothing, a quiet ritual of pure love.
Duang's pout had softened into a small, contented smile, and he let out a soft, sleepy sigh.
— Mm, — he hummed, nuzzling into Qin's palm. — Good.
Qin smiled, pressing another peck to his lips.
— There, — he murmured. — All clean, puppy.
Duang's only response was to lean closer, as his arms wrapped again around Qin's waist in a loose, trusting embrace.
And Qin held him, letting the warm water wash away the last traces of paint, the lingering tiredness, and the weight of the long day, until there was nothing left but warmth, quiet affection, and the soft, hazy sound of water falling around them.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
While being held so closely, Qin leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Duang's shoulder. The taste of the shower water and the faint sweetness of the baby oil mingled on his lips. In response, Duang nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, his nose brushing against Qin's pulse point, while his lips started leaving wet, soft kisses along the curve of his throat. Each kiss was slow and lazy, full of sleepy affection, and Qin felt them like little sparks against his skin.
Qin had already poured some shampoo into his palm and the familiar scent of clean herbs and something subtly sweet rose in the steam. He shifted Duang's head gently, guiding him back just enough to get his hands into that damp, messy hair. Even as Duang started to whine softly again, he immediately relaxed as he felt Qin's fingers began to massage his scalp.
The tension of the day melted away under Qin's touch. His fingers worked through the tangled strands, washing away the sweat and tiredness and the mess from Duang's hair. The gentle pressure of his fingertips against Duang's scalp was comforting, and Duang's whine faded into a low, contented hum. His eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted into the touch like a flower seeking sunlight.
Qin pressed his lips to Duang's temple before massaging there too, his thumbs were working in slow circles against the delicate skin. He was careful, so careful, making sure the suds didn't drip into Duang's eyes. He shifted their bodies slightly, turning Duang so he was safe from the direct stream of water, and continued massaging—endlessly soft and gentle.
Duang woke up a bit more, stirred by the tenderness, and continued responding to the efforts and the love with soft kisses all along Qin's neck and shoulder. Each press of his lips was unhurried, a quiet thank you, a whispered I love you. His hands, still resting on Qin's waist, tightened just slightly, pulling himself closer.
Soon after, Duang got quiet and too enthusiastic about it. He changed the angle of his kisses, finding the sensitive spot just below Qin's ear, and pressed his lips there with a newfound eagerness. Suddenly, he felt too excited—all flushed and warm and incredibly soft, his cheeks pink, his lips slick, his eyes half-lidded with something that was quickly shifted from sleepiness to something warmer. He felt allowed this warmth, allowed to touch Qin's sensitive skin for so long, and he suddenly wanted more.
But a gentle pull of his hair—just a soft tug, enough to get his attention—made his focus snap back to his Ter.
— Duang, not now, — Qin murmured, his voice was low but firm, though there was no real sternness in it, just gentle boundaries and care.
— Ter... — Duang whined, his voice pleading, while his eyes were all wide and glossy.
— Now we go to sleep,— Qin said, and his tone left no room for argument.
He pushed Duang gently back under the water, rinsing the suds from his hair, because he could feel himself getting flustered, could feel the heat rising in his own cheeks. He couldn't allow this puppy to get all over turned on about it—they really needed both to rest. And Qin knew, with absolute certainty, that he himself wouldn't be able to resist if Duang continued marking his neck again.
His territory.
The water streamed over Duang's hair, washing away the last of the shampoo, and he pouted but didn't protest further. He simply leaned into Qin again, and his cheek pressed softly to Qin's, as he noticed the tips of Qin's ears, peeking through his wet hair, flushed a delicate pink.
And then, Duang's pout softened into the smallest, most intimate smile. He pressed his lips together, hiding it against Qin's soft cheek, but the warmth in his chest bloomed like the jasmine in the steam around them.
Tomorrow then.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
Once Duang was all burrito-covered in the softest towel—bundled up like the coziest thing in the world—he was sat by his Ter on the edge of the bed. Though he still had one promise to keep: he absolutely could not fall asleep with damp hair on their bed. Otherwise, they would go to sleep to cold, wet patches on the sheets—and Qin would be unhappy.
Duang had promised, of course, but he had to fight the urge like a true warrior. Every fiber of his being wanted to just flop backward into the pillows, to sink into the softness and let sleep take him. But he was determined! He was willing to be a good boy for his Ter, and to do everything, anything to make his Ter the happiest!
So he sat patiently, while the towel was wrapped around him like a cocoon, and his damp hair was dripping small droplets onto his shoulders. His eyes grew heavy, but he held on. His eyes caught the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and his gaze fixed on the warm pool of light, letting it anchor him.
Not much time passed. His full attention was held by that gentle amber glow, and his thoughts were drifting in slow, sleepy circles—when he felt a gentle press on his chin. Qin approached him and his fingers tilted Duang's face up, interrupting his quiet drift of sleepy thoughts.
— Hands up, Duang.
Duang held them up as asked, as a good boy he was, just like he promised. The towel dropped all around him, pooling at his waist, and he was almost instantly covered by another soft, white cotton t-shirt. It settled over his skin, warm and soft, dampening slightly at the collar where his wet hair brushed against it.
He slipped out of the collar, blinking, and smiled sweetly at his Ter. His lips curved into that soft, adoring expression, and then he pouted—pushing his lower lip out just slightly, like a silent request.
Qin rolled his eyes, but the fondness in them was unmistakable. He leaned in and pressed a small peck to Duang's pouting lips, quick and soft. Then he dropped a pair of shorts near the towel.
— Here, put this on.
Duang's smile widened, as a precious curl of pure happiness reached his eyes.
— Yayy, no underwear!
Meanwhile, Qin's hands found the hairdryer, and he busied himself with plugging it in, grateful for the dim light that hid the warmth creeping up his face.
Behind him, Duang wiggled into the shorts with clumsy, sleep-heavy movements. His fingers fumbled with the waistband, but he managed, eventually, and then sat back on the bed, looking up at Qin with those big, dark, adoring eyes.
— Ready, Ter,— he announced, his voice soft and happy.
Qin turned, hairdryer in hand, and his heart clenched at the sight. Duang sat there, swimming in the oversized white t-shirt, with his hair damp, tousled and messy, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-lidded and full of love.
— Good boy, — Qin murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
And Duang's smile grew impossibly brighter.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
After a while, Duang found himself sitting quietly on the soft rug, as he curled up against Qin. His arms wrapped around one of Qin's legs, hugging it close to his chest like a cherished treasure, while his cheek was pressed against the warm skin of Qin's pale knee. He nuzzled there, soft and slow, his breath felt warm against Qin's skin, and his eyes fluttered closed and open again with each gentle tug of the brush through his damp hair.
Qin tried to be as gentle as possible—each stroke of the brush was careful, working through the tangles with patient precision. But he wanted to do this as quickly as he could, glancing at the nightstand clock, which glowed softly to show it was already past 3 a.m. They had to rush to sleep if they wanted to have some time for themselves the next day too, besides sleeping dead in the softness of blankets.
So he took care of his Duang with lots of love and devotion, while the hairdryer hummed softly, cascading warm air all over Duang's soft hair, making the strands flutter and dance.
Duang's head rested in his lap, and his cheek was pressed against Qin's knee, while his arms hugged Qin's legs tightly. He was so clingy, and so impossibly adorable, that Qin couldn’t help but love every second of it.
Then, Qin's free hand came up to cradle the back of Duang's head, threading with his fingers through the damp strands, feeling the warmth from the dryer. He worked in sections, careful and thorough, making sure every bit of hair was dry enough to sleep on.
The dryer's steady hum filled the quiet room, but beneath it, Qin could feel Duang's soft, rhythmic breathing. He could feel the way Duang's arms tightened around his legs with each pass of the brush, and the way his lips pressed sleepy kisses against his knee.
And then, just barely audible over the noise, Qin mumbled under his breath:
— You're particularly clingy tonight, aren't you?
The words were muffled enough that they should have been swallowed by the whir of the hairdryer, but Duang heard them, and his heart instantly swelled at the warmth in Qin’s voice. His smile widened against Qin’s pale skin as he nuzzled closer into his legs, arms tightening around them. He pressed another few soft, lingering kisses to Qin’s bare knees, unable to hide how much the affection pleased him.
Each kiss was a quiet declaration, a soft: yes, I am, and I’m not willing to let go.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Duang was wondering—a sleepy, curious thought—if Qin was not wearing any underwear too.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
Once Duang was an all dry and clean puppy, Qin shifted to get up and put the hairdryer back in its place. But as Duang felt those pale, soft legs leaving his embrace, his arms tightened desperately, and his face crumpled into that familiar, irresistible pout. A small, urgent whine escaped him, high and plaintive, and he hugged Qin's legs even tighter, unwilling to let go at any cost.
— Mmhhhm! — he protested, while his voice was muffled against Qin's knee.
But Qin knew him already too well. He looked down at his clingy boyfriend and a fond smile tugged at his lips.
— Come here, Duang, — he said, his voice gentle but firm, — or no kisses before sleep.
— Uh!!
That brought Duang's full attention. His eyes snapped open wide, all traces of sleepiness momentarily forgotten. A second later, he had scrambled onto the bed, sitting back on his heels, with his legs folded neatly beneath him. His face was tilted up, lips pursed into an exaggerated kissy face, making adorable little smacking noises. His head tilted side to side, and he bounced slightly on the mattress, while his whole body was wiggling with eager anticipation.
Qin felt another soft smile tug at his lips. He didn't waste another second, so, after unplugging the hairdryer and setting it on the nightstand, he turned back toward his Duang, crawled across the bed, leaned down, and pressed a soft peck to Duang's waiting lips.
Duang's whole face lit up immediately. He made a small, delighted sound, as his body started wiggling with joy, all jumpy and soft and impossibly happy. But the excitement was short-lived—a moment later, a large, uncovered yawn overtook the poor puppy. His jaw stretched wide, his eyes squeezed shut, and he made the most terribly sleepy sound, a long, drawn-out "ooaaahhh" that melted into a soft, contented hum.
He blinked slowly afterward, letting a warm, blanket-like exhaustion pull his heavy eyes shut once more.
Qin's heart clenched at the sight. He reached out, cupping Duang's face in his hands, stroking his chubby cheeks with his thumbs.
— Come on, sleepy puppy, — he murmured. — Time for bed.
He guided Duang down onto the mattress, pulling back the covers and helping him slide beneath them. The sheets were cool against Duang's warm skin, and he shivered slightly before Qin slipped in beside him, and Duang immediately plastered himself to him, wrapping around Qin like a koala. His arms wound around Qin's waist, his leg hooked over Qin's thigh, pulling himself impossibly closer, and his face buried into the curve of Qin's neck. He nuzzled there, nose pressing gently against Qin's soft skin, breathing in deeply.
And then, the sleepy kissing attack started—the soft, gentle presses of lips to Qin's jaw, cheek, his temple and the corner of his eye. Duang's mouth found every inch of Qin's face, brushing against Qin's pale skin like the softest whisper, leaving a trail of tenderness in its wake.
Each kiss was unhurried and full of quiet devotion and love. Between kisses, he would pause to sniff slowly, filling his lungs with the familiar, comforting scent of his Ter.
Qin's hands came up to cradle Duang's head, threading with his fingers through the soft, dry strands of his hair. He scratched gently at Duang's scalp, and Duang melted into the touch with a soft sigh escaping him. His whole body relaxed under Qin's hold, going pliant and heavy, pressing even closer.
Qin let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrated through his chest.
— You're like a little octopus, — he murmured, his voice was thick with affection.
Hearing that, Duang giggled breathlessly against Qin's skin, and pressed another kiss to his neck.
— Your octopus, — he mumbled, while his lips kept brushing against Qin's pulse point.
Qin's smile widened, and he tilted his head, giving Duang more access. Duang took the invitation eagerly, pressing soft kisses along Qin's neck and jaw, licking wetly the sensitive spot just behind his ear. Qin shivered, and his fingers tightened in Duang's hair. Meanwhile, Duang just hummed in satisfaction, nuzzling even closer.
Qin couldn't resist anymore. His eyes, dark and hazy with love and sleep and softness, found those naughty lips and met them in a tender dance, soft and unhurried, like a quiet conversation between two people who knew each other's language by heart.
The room instantly filled with plush little whispers of lips meeting, parting, and meeting again. A barely-there smack echoed softly as Qin pulled back just a fraction, only to lean in again. A soft, breathy sigh escaped from Duang's impatient mouth as Qin's captured his lower one, gentle and reverent. The quiet hum of contentment vibrated between them, shared and returned.
Qin's hand cradled Duang's jaw, thumb stroking his cheekbone as he kissed him, slow and deep. The warmth of their breath mingled, the faint taste of sleep and sweetness shared between them, as their lips moved together in that tender, soft and plush, rhythm.
Full of everything words couldn't say.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
Once they broke apart, Duang leaned in and took a deep, slow sniff against Qin’s cheek before resting his own against his lover's, nuzzling there for a moment. Soon after, his hand found Qin's beneath the blankets, and their fingers intertwined almost instinctively, as Qin's thumb began to stroke gently across his knuckles.
The quietness of deep night settled on them like a soft, warm bubble, drawing them gently into the sweetest haze.
— Love you, Ter, — Duang whispered, pressing another tiny peck to Qin's nose.
— Love you too, puppy, — Qin replied, his breath felt warm against Duang's lips, carrying the faint sweetness of their shared kisses.
A small, comfortable silence settled between them. Then Duang's voice came again, barely audible, tinged with a hint of sleepy playfulness.
— No octopus anymore?
Qin's lips curved into a soft smile, as his thumb kept stroking Duang's hand.
— Duang.
And Duang giggled sweetly again, pressing his face onto Qin's cheek, and they lay there, wrapped in each other, with the soft blankets cocooning them in gentle warmth.
— Sweet dreams, Ter, — Duang murmured, his voice was barely a whisper, thick with love and sleep.
Qin's other hand continued its gentle, slow and soothing scratching at Duang's scalp, as he felt Duang's breathing grow slower, deeper, and his body going completely limp against Qin's.
Qin pressed another kiss to his hair, his temple, and then to the shell of his ear.
— Sweet dreams, Duang, — he whispered.
And, as the softness of the night settled deeper around them, Qin let himself drift too, comforted by the simple certainty that Duang was in his arms, safe and warm, right where he belonged. His sleepy puppy had filled every little corner of Qin’s heart with so much love and happiness that home no longer felt like a place. It was simply this—the warmth in his arms, the soft weight against him, and Duang sleeping peacefully beside.
Qin's dear, sleepy puppy.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
ᓚ₍⑅^- .-^₎ ♡ ૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
End.
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