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Yeosang would be a morning person if he didn’t love sleep so much. He delights in the smell of flowers opening their petals to the new day, the birds singing out their window. But their wrought iron bed is so comfy and Seonghwa’s body is so warm, especially warm, next to him. Their pale. green sheets are a tangled mess caught between his legs, his gingham pajama shirt ( paired only with a pair of boxer briefs ) only unevenly half-buttoned.
Seonghwa is awake, of course, as sun witches are essentially programmed to rise with the sun. Their cottage creaks beneath his bare feet when he returns with a cup of sweetened Earl Grey, neatly slipping back into bed, gently moving Yeosang’s outstretched arm to give himself enough space to stretch out as well. Though he had risen to greet the sun and collect beams for his own magic, a drizzle greets him instead. He blows on his vintage teacup ( Yeosang had insisted on buying the whole mismatched set at the consignment shop years ago ) before taking a sip. The tea has barely been steeped, the bag removed a minute too soon before the recommended time, mingling with the two teaspoons of sugar and vanilla oat milk the witch has come to enjoy. His slender fingers absently comb through Yeosang’s shaggy light brown hair, enjoying the way he immediately stirs.
Garden fairies often blossom with the sun, you see.
"Hmm," he hums knowingly, taking another sip of his tea. "I think you’re awake."
The fairy groans in protest, frowning in his half-sleep. No, no, he is not awake yet, thank you so very much.
The grumbling prompts Seonghwa to set his cup on his nightstand, much neater than Yeosang’s side, scooting forward and lowering himself away from the headboard. Laying on his side, he brushes fingers across Yeo’s exposed collarbone, enjoying the shiver that runs through his lithe body. "My starlight," he sings softly, plucking at the top button, "wake up…"
That puts a smile on Yeosang’s youthful face, his round cheeks puffing up pleasantly, though his eyes stubbornly remain closed. "Still asleep, hyung," he yawns, shaking his head. He’ll have to work a little harder.
Seonghwa chuckles and warms the tips of his fingers until they turn a golden orange. Well, if he wants a little more, he’ll give it to him, sliding his fingertips up that soft, pliant body over the slight curve of his little tummy, deftly undoing all the buttons of his pajamas. "It’s raining today," he hums, dipping his head to press little kisses along the other’s neck. brushing that cotton top aside so he can curve his hand around the dip in his waist. "I thought I’d come up with a replacement for our plans," he continues, coaxing his legs open so he can nestle between them. He parts them without hesitation, only to wrap them around those skinny hips, pulling him firmly against his pelvis.
"Isn’t this always your replacement?" Yeosang laughs lightly, breathily now that the witch has busied himself with kissing his way down his torso, taking his sweet time. He arches his back when hwa takes it upon himself to divest him of his shirt entirely.
There is something special that happens when a sun witch and a garden fairy lay together. Seonghwa is an attentive but greedy lover, mapping out his beloved’s body with golden-tipped fingers, eager to overwhelming him with his mouth, his tongue, wanting to drink up each and every sigh and whimper. They rut against each other and kiss and he takes in his fairy’s sweetness, letting Yeosang eventually perch himself in his lap so he can glide his fingers up his back and between his shoulder blades where those beautiful sheer green wings often appear, iridescent, catching the sun’s rays better than even he could.
The numerous potted plants in their room are suddenly lush, each blossom full, every leaf fanning out. They’re both certain if they look out their open window, they will find their garden wild, the fragrance already filling the room.
Seonghwa takes his time in opening up and unraveling Yeosang, hands firm on his hips, restraining him just enough to draw out this round of lovemaking, heated fingertips digging into soft thighs as he controls his pace. He presses his face against his neck, murmuring sweet nothings into his skin. Yeosang is draped over him, lithe body fitting perfectly against his witch’s willowy frame. He's curled one hand around his own length, pumping in time with each thrust.
He’s learned to love the slow burn from their lazy morning lovemaking, Seonghwa setting his skin ablaze with every touch. The witch doesn’t need to request this time, because Yeosang knows exactly what he wants. Seonghwa’s body is pulled taut like a bow prepared to take aim. He has enough freedom to lift his hips, changing the angle just enough to make the other roll his head back, sighing in pleasure. Slowly, Yeosang takes the reins from him, guiding Hwa’s hand to curl around him, pumping him with the rolls of his hips.
Just when he’s turned him into putty, just when he feels he’s about to snap, Yeosang lets his wings unfurl, a sheer cover over them both, fluttering to play with Seonghwa's sunlight that fills their bedroom in the middle of a rainstorm.
They come together, quietly, tenderly, Yeosang repeating his name like a prayer on his lips. Seonghwa runs his hands over every inch of him that he can reach. They kiss, a giggle shared between them, and the fairy brushes golden blond hair away from his face. He carefully leaves his lap, the pull tugging a groan from Seonghwa’s throat.
The younger leaves loving little kisses over his heated skin, teasing at a nipple with his tongue before busying himself with that gorgeous set of abs, playfully cleaning up the mess he left moments ago. Hwa whines, somehow the one left boneless despite all his efforts in undoing the other.
"Hey, hey," he sighs, reaching for Yeosang’s waist to tug him over his chest. "We can clean up in the pond later," he says, for once not worried about cleanliness, in fact touched that the other cares about keeping him clean.
Through his narrow, striking eyes, Yeosang looks over his lover’s naked form appreciatively, always struck by the witch’s unusual, elegant beauty He reverently runs his palms over narrow thighs, trailing up the sides of his torso as he slowly lowers himself to nestle onto his chest. Iridescent wings fold in tidily against his back, a leg draped over his hips.
"I love you, hyung," he murmurs, nuzzling his round, pink cheek over his heart, closing his eyes. "Let me make you breakfast."
Swonghwa is glad he can’t see the way his long nose wrinkles as he pictures worn out chopsticks and a brown, crispy omelette. "Because I love you, I’ll make something for us both."