Archive of Our Own

Doyoung wakes up at 4am and walks right into Taeyong’s trap.

Doyoung blames it on herbal tea. He has to, because if it wasn't for herbal tea he wouldn't have woken in the middle of the night with a full bladder, wouldn't have dragged his tired feet to the bathroom with his eyelids still heavy and come back to find Taeyong's bedroom door slightly ajar—was it like this before?—and the characteristic bursts of light from his computer screen. If Doyoung really strains his ears he can hear some keyboard smashing as well.

Doyoung should've picked up on the orchestrated nature of the whole thing. He probably would've if he didn't have his pillow still marked on his cheek, if it was four in the afternoon, if the rest of the dorm wasn't completely dark and dead silent. So, of course, he falls right into it. All because of some fucking herbal tea.

"Hyung," Doyoung mumbles as he walks in, rubbing his eyes with a slender hand, "Why are you still up?"

Taeyong's frame is a dark figure cut into the flashy blues and purples of the screen. He spins his chair around, headphones sitting comfortably around his neck, one knee bent to his chest. Doyoung is also too drowsy to wonder why he's wearing shorts this time of the year. "Doyoung-ah. You didn't knock."

"We have an early schedule tomorrow."

Doyoung blinks until his eyes adapt to the darkness, then catches a shimmer in Taeyong's eyes as he bites on his thumb, "Can't sleep."

"Of course you can't, you're glued to that stupid screen."

"It helps me relax!"

"Go to bed, hyung. Come on." 

Doyoung pulls from Taeyong's arm as Taeyong pouts, and it's the familiarity of it, the extensive history of this exact same situation having been played out by them a thousand times before, what makes the trap so much more difficult to spot. "It's not my fault, you know I'm easily distracted."

"Then count sheep."

Doyoung tugs Taeyong's arm again and it's as if he’s pulling from a stubborn rag doll. He won't move, but his head is tilted cutely to the side as he peers up at him. "Can I sleep in your room?"

"What?"

"There's too many distractions here, and your room is so neat and cozy."

"Your room is also neat."

"Yeah but it's Taeyong-neat, not Doyoung-neat."

The ridiculousness of the statement makes Doyoung wonder if he's actually still asleep, but then Taeyong pulls his ultimate card on him, his power move, and it's so genuinely Taeyong there's no way Doyoung's subconscious could've replicated it with this level of accuracy. 

There's no monster in hell who could resist Taeyong's boba eyes. 

"Fine," Doyoung says with a sigh, "you can sleep in my room. But you better be fucking quiet."

Taeyong's smile is all too smug, but Doyoung doesn't linger to see it. He can already feel the lack of sleep tugging at his temples and dragging him back to bed, and he only hopes this whole situation can be resolved soon so he can get at least four more hours in before the dreaded alarm. 

Doyoung's room is completely dark when they enter and Doyoung's sixth sense springs to life like an antennae in his head, sensing the movement of Taeyong's hand in its attempt to reach the light switch. "Don't," Doyoung says, "You'll ruin my sleep immersion."

"Your what?"

"My sleep cycle is already fucked because of that herbal tea and if I let my eyes take in too much light it'll be harder for me to fall asleep."

Taeyong lets out a small chuckle but, luckily and uncharacteristically, doesn't argue further.

Doyoung's bed is still warm when he gets in. His body melts into the softness of the mattress instantly. 

"Mmm," Taeyong says into the sheets, "They smell so nice."

"Good night, hyung."

"Night!"

The mattress dips and dips as Taeyong shuffles into a comfortable position, then the room goes completely silent. Doyoung's body relaxes. Before closing his eyes he thanks the universe for letting this whole thing go smoothly.

The peace lasts for about two minutes.

At first it's some shuffling. It's not enough to get on Doyoung's nerves yet so he assumes Taeyong is just shifting in place, readjusting to the new bed. Then the mattress starts dipping slowly and progressively, and Doyoung's personal space gets invaded by Taeyong's body heat.

"What are you doing?" Doyoung says.

"I'm cold!"

"You'll warm up soon enough. Now sleep."

Silence. Another minute goes by without any incidents. 

Then Taeyong pulls his next move, this time moving his feet inch by inch towards Doyoung's. 

The first brush of feet could pass as accidental so Doyoung ignores it, but after that it gets ridiculous. Taeyong rubs his cold feet against Doyoung's socks, not uttering a word, his movements drenched in a calculated shyness to mask his real intentions. Doyoung doesn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He stays completely still and starts counting down from one hundred, until one of Taeyong's feet slides up Doyoung's leg and sneaks a toe into Doyoung's sock. 

"Hyung!" Doyoung gasps.

"I told you I was cold!"

"So you're stealing my socks now?"

"You always take them off in your sleep anyway."

Doyoung huffs and moves his feet away from him, "You're infuriating."

"I just wanna be warm and cozy, Doyoung-ah. You know how sensitive I am."

"Yeah, I know."

Doyoung's leg is still tingling from Taeyong's touch but he doesn't let it get to him. If he thinks too much about it his brain will start whirring with stupid ideas and he just wants to get his good four—three, at this point—hours of sleep. So he sighs and picks up his countdown and pretends that Taeyong's body is an arrangement of pillows, no sneaky feet, no mouth, no fingertips. 

"Doyoung-ah?"

Doyoung's whole body rattles. "What now?"

"Can I get a good night kiss?"

Cutely. He asks cutely.

Doyoung gets it over with. He has to, because otherwise he'll suffocate Taeyong with a pillow or grow gray hair or come up with other ways to make Taeyong shut up. So he searches for Taeyong's hand in the dark, takes it to his lips and gives it a quick kiss. But Taeyong whines, "Ahh, not that kind of kiss."

"Hyung—"

"Pleeeease?"

Doyoung can almost see his stupid boba eyes sparkling in the dark. "Will you shut up and go to sleep if I do it?"

"Mhm."

Doyoung sighs. He searches in the dark again, this time for Taeyong's face, until his fingers brush against his lips—a thought scurries away before Doyoung can catch it, a warning about the possibility of Taeyong parting his lips and catching his fingers with his teeth, vivid enough to make him shudder—then scoots closer and puts his weight on his elbow as he leans in. 

It's a tame kiss. No tongue. No hands doing their own thing. The goodnight, innocent kind, just what Taeyong asked for. But Taeyong—Taeyong has the audacity to hum. Derogatorily.

"What?" Doyoung says.

"Nothing."

"What?"

Taeyong breathes in and lets out a long, terribly dramatic sigh, "Just that it didn't seem like you put much enthusiasm into it."

Doyoung swears his soul leaves his body for a second. "Are you fucking serious?"

"I'm always serious!"

"It's four in the freaking morning, that's as much enthusiasm as you'll get from me."

"If you say so…"

"The hell does that mean?"

"Not everything means something, Doyoung-ah."

"Wha—"

"Although I may have been recalling a certain someone going to my bedroom at three am to blow off steam multiple times last summer. I wonder what happened to him?"

Doyoung's cheeks burn with rage, or embarrassment, or something else entirely. "You're so—"

"Hmm?" 

"You're— You—" Doyoung lets out a frustrated sound, "You're impossible."

"That so?"

"Yes, you're impossible and an idiot and—"

"And what?"

"And I hate you."

"No you don't."

Heat swirls in Doyoung's stomach. It would be so much easier to hate him. 

"Are you gonna kiss me properly now?"

"No."

"Hmm, as expected of—"

Doyoung surges forward and slams his lips against his. It's harsh and messy, all teeth and fingernails digging into bony shoulders, but the satisfaction of making Taeyong shut up is soon overridden by the sound he makes when Doyoung slips his tongue inside his mouth. And that's the thing about Taeyong, in the span of thirty seconds he'll make Doyoung go from one end of the crazy spectrum to the other. 

Doyoung leans back with a gasp and licks at the spit on his lower lip, "Happy now?"

The darkness in front of him pants, "Not even close."

Doyoung's head spins as he leans down again, the kiss sloppy and missing Taeyong's lips the first time, biting on his chin instead. He slides on top of Taeyong and presses his body against his and waves of heat run through his body hungrily, asking for more, more, ragged breaths falling off-beat with his racing heart. Then Taeyong closes his hands around Doyoung's waist and rolls his hips upwards and a burst of light flashes behind Doyoung's eyelids. 

"No," Doyoung breathes out. He captures Taeyong's wrists and forces his arms to either side of Taeyong’s head.

Taeyong whines, "Hey—"

"No touching for you tonight."

Doyoung swallows Taeyong's protests as he keeps licking into his mouth, Taeyong squirming under him, soft moans dripping out of him whenever their hips brush against each other, and it's just like any other night. Their bodies don't fit awkwardly like they did the first few times all those years ago. Their lips already know the other's language, tongues and teeth never stumble upon each other unless it's purely intentional. It's warm and familiar and for a moment Doyoung forgets this all started because Taeyong refused to go to bed. He forgets he's supposed to be getting his four hours of sleep.

There's scarce things in life Doyoung cares about more than his precious sleep, and it's true that Taeyong—on most days—is one of those, but one thing that's for certain is that Doyoung will never let himself lose in a competition, and, in making Doyoung stay awake when he shouldn't be, Taeyong is winning this one.

Doyoung can't have that.

Doyoung bites on Taeyong's lower lip, a new kind of determination running through him now, and Taeyong arches his back with a whine. "You're so needy," Doyoung says, "Were you teasing yourself before I went to see you?"

"Maybe— Mmh— I told you I couldn't sleep."

Doyoung noses at Taeyong's neck and licks the salty skin there. Taeyong's pulse is hot and fast under his tongue. "Were you thinking of me? Hoping I'd wake up and catch you red-handed?"

Taeyong's cock twitches under Doyoung's hips and Doyoung has to gather every ounce of his will so as not to give in to his urges right then and there. He's got to keep his head cool. "Were you, then?" he demands when Taeyong doesn't answer.

Taeyong breathes in sharply, "I always think of you."

It's raw and honest and, worst of all, Doyoung knows it's true. So of course it goes straight to his cock.

Swallowing back a whimper, Doyoung moves his hips away from Taeyong's body and supports his weight on his left arm. Taeyong starts complaining immediately, "No, come back—"

"So whiny all of a sudden," Doyoung says as he catches his breath, "Not so cocky anymore, huh?"

Taeyong squirms under Doyoung's grip, tangling his legs with his, trying to get closer. Maybe being in complete darkness is an advantage for Doyoung. Just imagining Taeyong exposing his pretty neck as he arches his back, shirt rolling up to show his contracting stomach, lips parted mid-beg, is enough to send him down a maddening spiral.

He has to be smart about this. If he can get Taeyong to get off quickly maybe he’ll finally cool down and go to sleep. As long as he himself doesn’t get dragged into the mess it should be fine.

Doyoung surges down and traces Taeyong's neck and jaw with his lips until he finds his ear, "Be good and stay still now."

Slowly, Doyoung lets go of Taeyong's left wrist and reaches down, trailing the dips and bumps of Taeyong's body with his fingers, feeling him shudder under his touch like a sensitive flower, until his palm rubs against the bulge in his shorts. Taeyong rolls his hips upwards with a moan. 

"Ah!" Doyoung retreats his hand instantly and bites on Taeyong's earlobe, "What did I say?"

"I'm sorry!" Taeyong whines, his neck pulsating under Doyoung's lips as he swallows, "I'll be good— Ahh—"

Taeyong takes in a sharp breath as Doyoung puts back his hand and squeezes, teeth gracing the skin between his neck and shoulder. "I want to mark you so badly," Doyoung says, just as Taeyong likes to hear, "Mark you as mine so that everyone sees. So that everyone knows."

"Please— Please do."

Doyoung opens his mouth and sucks softly on the skin, more tongue than teeth, as if that could replicate the sensation. They both know it's as far as Doyoung can go. He leaves kisses all along Taeyong's neck and keeps rubbing his cock, left hand still closed around Taeyong's wrist, lips mouthing right under Taeyong's chin as Taeyong hums softly. 

"Doyoung-ah," Taeyong says between ragged breaths.

"Hmm?"

"Please do."

Heat curls in Doyoung's chest. He stops. "Hyung, we can't."

"I don't care."

Doyoung swallows. It's so foul of Taeyong to say that when he knows Doyoung wants it as badly as him. It's always Doyoung who has to keep a cool head, always the one who has to remind Taeyong of their boundaries whenever he decides to throw all his fucks out the window.

"Stay still," Doyoung says, leaving one last kiss on the corner of Taeyong's lips.

The mattress dips under Doyoung’s knees as he lets go of Taeyong and slides down, pulling back the sheets to relocate between his legs. He leaves Taeyong's cock alone to trace Taeyong's bare and warm thighs with his hands, and he can almost see them through the veil of darkness, so prettily shaped, so tender to the touch. Taeyong loves to show them off around the dorm as if it didn't drive Doyoung insane, or maybe because of that exact reason.

Doyoung leans down and sucks the soft flesh of Taeyong's inner thigh.

"Mmh," Taeyong says with a shudder.

"You like that?"

Doyoung opens his mouth to suck on the same spot, harder this time, and Taeyong hums, "Yes. More, please…"

Taeyong squirms under Doyoung as he mouths up Taeyong's thigh, his nose brushing the hem of his shorts. He licks and sucks and bites, alternating between one thigh and the other, aching to see the flesh get all flushed and purple. He lets his fingers sneak up Taeyong's shorts, knowing full well how sensitive Taeyong is there—he's sensitive everywhere—and sucks another bruise into his thigh. 

"Mine," Doyoung whispers, and Taeyong's hum rings prettily in his ears.

"Yours."

It makes his chest buzz. Warm, warm. Doyoung knows Taeyong's cheeks must be dusted pink now, his eyes closed, his lips swollen red and glistening with spit, the very same image that's been scarred into his mind a thousand times, the one that lingers like a ghost behind his eyelids when he goes to sleep. Sometimes Doyoung wonders how it can be possible to want to take care of someone while craving to ruin them so badly. How their closeness makes him slowly melt sometimes, and how other times it burns straight to the bone.

He'll have to figure it out later. There’s no time to lose, and right now he's too busy bringing his face to Taeyong's groin and passing his tongue all along the bulge in his shorts.

"Ahh, fuck—"

"You're so pretty when you whine like this, hyung," Doyoung says, "If it wasn't for our schedule tomorrow I'd keep edging you for hours."

"Fuck," is all Taeyong says, more breath than sound, as Doyoung mouths at his cock, "Fuck."

"You're gonna be good and stay still while I suck you off?"

Taeyong whines as an answer, so Doyoung goes back to his thigh and sucks harshly on the flesh, "Didn't catch that."

"Ah— Yes! Yes, I'll be good!"

Doyoung doesn't delay the matter any further. He hooks his fingers on the elastic band of Taeyong's shorts and pulls them down, and Taeyong hisses at the sudden change.

"Up," Doyoung commands, patting Taeyong's lap. Taeyong rolls his hips upwards and Doyoung takes off his shorts properly, then throws them at the hungry darkness of the room. Taeyong's warm stomach rises and falls in odd intervals as Doyoung spreads his fingers over it, leaning down to press his tongue against his hip bone.

"Such a good boy," Doyoung says. His fingers travel along Taeyong's stomach, teasingly and slowly, before closing around his cock. 

Taeyong hums as Doyoung starts stroking him, his thumb rising up to the tip and getting slick with precum, making Doyoung's spine rattle with a shiver. Doyoung licks his lips, his mouth watering. "So eager for me," he says, keeping the slow pace, his heart pumping wildly in his throat, "Leaking already, so desperate for my mouth. I wish I could see how much of a mess you are right now."

Taeyong's cock grows hard under his palm as Taeyong whimpers, "Mmh… Please…"

Without warning, Doyoung passes his tongue along Taeyong's cock and takes him full in his mouth.

"Ahh!" Taeyong moans, "Fuck, fuck—"

Doyoung digs his fingernails in Taeyong's hips and sighs heavily as he dives down, his other hand collecting the spit that drips from his lips and spreading it along Taeyong's cock.

It's overwhelming at first, as it always is. Taeyong's hips twitch under Doyoung's grip as he starts bobbing his head and Doyoung's eyes flutter closed, savoring how good Taeyong's warm cock feels against his tongue, how full and satiated his mouth is while also growing hungry with the knowledge that it can take more. The familiar taste of Taeyong's precum spreads through his taste buds and Doyoung takes in a stuttered breath of air when his body reacts to it on reflex, his stomach clenching, his fingernails digging deeper into Taeyong's hips and drawing more sounds out of him.

It's maddening. The mere act of having Taeyong completely at his mercy makes Doyoung's nerves buzz, but there's another thing that bites at his stomach too. The raw and frustrating ambition that eats Doyoung alive, the desire of being able to have Taeyong like this somewhere other than in the privacy of his little room while everyone else is fast asleep. 

Doyoung's chest burns, consumed by jealousy towards the concept of anonymity, even if it's selfish, even if he loves his job and wouldn't trade it for anything else. For a slight moment he lets his guard down and his heart races with the idea of being just another nobody on the street, of sticking his hand in Taeyong's pants while they're at the movies, of taking him to an underground club and show him off and fuck him in a grimy bathroom without giving a damn if someone walks in on them. He lets himself long for public touches and Taeyong's pretty skin carrying the mark of his teeth, of making Taeyong moan louder than this and scream his name be it four in the morning or in the freaking afternoon.

Doyoung lets his mind run wild as he works his mouth around Taeyong's cock intently, hungrily, bones shaking at the squelching sounds of his spit dripping messily from his lips. His heart hammers right on top of Taeyong's moans and his head grows dizzy with the heady air around them, sweat slowly collecting on his neck, his own cock getting semi-hard before he can get a grip on himself and making him let out a moan that vibrates around Taeyong's cock.

"Ah!" Taeyong cries and his hips jolt upwards, hitting the back of Doyoung's throat. "Ah, I'm sorry!"

But it's too late. The movement works as a switch and sets Doyoung's blood on fire. 

Doyoung's hand shoots up to join the other one on Taeyong's hips, and his own cock throbs painfully as he relocates between Taeyong's legs and relaxes his throat to take Taeyong's cock fully. 

Taeyong moans and whines and swears and his body shudders under Doyoung's strong grip, held tightly in place as Doyoung hollows his cheeks and bobs his head faster to hit the tip of Taeyong's cock with his throat.

"Ahh… Ahh, Doyoung…" Taeyong says between ragged breaths. His fingers rush to grip Doyoung's hair and the touch sends an urgent shiver through Doyoung's body, his cock fully hard now, blood fast against his ears.

Doyoung’s grip falters. Taeyong groans and his hips stutter under the strain of Doyoung's fingers as he fights the urge to fuck into Doyoung's mouth, grip tight on Doyoung’s hair while Doyoung gags on his cock and spit runs down his chin, hot and sticky. The world spins, clothes stick to hot skin, time stops being relevant. 

“Doyoung-ah,” Taeyong says breathlessly, “I’m… I’m close…”

Doyoung's hips stutter involuntarily at that, making his groin rub sweetly against the mattress and drawing a hum out of him that vibrates in his throat and pushes Taeyong through the edge.

Taeyong cums deep in Doyoung's throat, hot and messy and loud. 

Taeyong’s grip on Doyoung’s hair loosens. His fingers snake lazily towards the neck of Doyoung's shirt as Doyoung leans back to lap at the spit and cum on his cock, bones vibrating out of his skin at his own lack of friction, his ears still ringing with Taeyong’s moans now turned into sighs as he comes down from his high.

Taeyong tugs at Doyoung's shirt softly, oblivious of Doyoung’s racing heart. “Come here," he says.

Doyoung licks his lips and swallows. He crawls on the bed, careful not to rub his groin against anything, and feels with his fingers until he finds Taeyong’s face. Taeyong’s lips are warm and wet when he leans down to kiss them.

“You're always so good to me,” Taeyong whispers into his lips, “Why are you so good to me?”

Doyoung answers with a feeble hum. Taeyong’s kisses are slow, gentle, not enough. 

“Doyoung-ah?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He bites his lip and pecks Taeyong’s cheek. His voice comes out a bit breathless, “Yeah. Will you sleep now?”

There’s a beat of silence. Somewhere in between the mess that is Doyoung’s head he hears that he’s won, that he got Taeyong to cool down and that they can finally go to sleep now. Then Taeyong rubs his hand against Doyoung’s cock and Doyoung's thoughts turn to mush. “Sleep?” Taeyong says, “And leave you like this?”

“Hyung, please—”

Taeyong surges forward and catches Doyoung’s lips in a harsh kiss, slipping his hand in Doyoung’s pants. Doyoung whines, “Hyung!”

“What?”

“It’s late!”

“But you want it so badly.” 

“No, I— I’m okay—”

Taeyong sneaks his tongue into his mouth and starts stroking him, turning Doyoung’s complaints into incomprehensible hums, sending hot waves of pleasure through his body with every movement of his hand. Doyoung’s legs tremble. “It’s late,” he breathes out, but it has no weight, no chance of winning against Taeyong’s tongue, against his fingers. “Hyung… We should— We should sleep—”

“Cum on my tummy," Taeyong says.

“No…”

“Please, Doyoung-ah," he says between open-mouthed kisses, his breath hot against Doyoung’s skin, "Please, please, cum on my tummy, please.”

Doyoung’s brain melts. It empties. It slips right out of his ears, Taeyong sucks it out of him.

“Fuck,” Doyoung breathes out, “You’re so— Hmm— So annoying.”

With one quick movement Doyoung pulls his pants down and gets on top of Taeyong. Heat pools in his stomach when Taeyong rolls up his shirt and starts stroking him again, faster this time, tongue licking viciously into his mouth.

“Use me,” Taeyong pants. He lets go of Doyoung and arches his back, rubbing his sweaty abs against Doyoung’s cock. The friction near makes Doyoung see stars. “Use my body to get off.”

“Hyung—”

“Please.”

It all happens in a frenzy. Doyoung barely has time to wrap his head around the fact that he can see Taeyong's silhouette now before Taeyong spits on his hand and rubs it on his tummy, then takes his shirt off and slides down.

Doyoung’s arms shake under his weight as he starts rutting against him, his heart in his throat, his mind spinning out of his control with the feeling of Taeyong’s teeth grazing his neck and his stomach moving under his cock. Sweat runs down his neck and spine, suddenly his shirt is gone too and Taeyong’s fingernails dig deep into his back.

“You’re insane,” Doyoung pants, “You’re— Ah!” Doyoung throws his head back with a moan as Taeyong arches his back, making Doyoung’s cock rub hard against the slick skin, “Ah, fuck—”

“I love it so much when you use me like this, Doyoung-ah,” Taeyong says, surging up again to suck on Doyoung’s neck, “I wish you’d tied me up too.”

“Fuck.”

Doyoung grinds against Taeyong’s body like he's been holding it in for days, elbows sinking deep into the mattress, ragged breaths and grunts condensing the air around them until his head grows dizzy. "You feel so fucking good," he pants. 

Taeyong links his hands behind his sweaty neck and presses his mouth against his chest, hot and wet, “Just for you.”

Doyoung’s heart clenches. He closes his eyes, breathless, “Ahh, hyung…” he says between hums, “I like you so much.” 

Doyoung keeps at it for a while, growing frustrated when he gets close yet not enough. He groans and switches up the pace and the angle and Taeyong's hums vibrate against his cock and it's not enough. 

Then an image bursts to life behind his eyelids. A dimly lit bathroom with graffiti on the walls, the stinging scent of cigarette smoke, Taeyong on his knees in a tiny cubicle with his pretty skin covered in sweat and marked in purple by Doyoung's mouth. Taeyong rising to his level and kissing him against the grimy walls and Doyoung tasting himself on his lips, and people coming in, and Doyoung teasing Taeyong until he can’t hold back his moans anymore and everyone knows. They’re in there together, and everyone knows.

Doyoung sits back on his knees and spills on Taeyong’s stomach, panting hard, his vision splattered with black and white dots. 

Doyoung lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. He lets himself stay still for a moment, lets every single sensation roll over his body one last time before leaving him soothed and satiated. When he opens them again, blinking through the sweat and darkness, he finds Taeyong’s shimmery gaze set on him. 

And the hint of a smirk on his lips. 

“You…” Doyoung pants. He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you.”

“You look so pretty right now, Doyoung-ah.”

“Sneaky bastard. You planned this.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

Doyoung leans down and silences him with a kiss, feeling drugged. He forgets about his cum on Taeyong’s stomach and flinches when it sticks to his skin, “Ugh, gross…”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Taeyong asks as he peers up at him, all smug, “What you said?”

“I should get a towel.”

“You really do like me.”

Taeyong surges up again and Doyoung complains against his lips, “Get off, it’s hot—”

“You like me so much.”

“I’m gonna get a towel.”

Doyoung stumbles in the dark as he looks for one, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light of dawn slipping through the blinds. He debates whether he should check the hour on his phone, decides it's better not to. Ignorance is bliss when talking about hours of sleep.

He goes back to bed just in time to catch Taeyong, still naked in between the mess of blankets, sucking on his index finger. "What are you doing?"

"You're bitter. Have you been eating enough fruit?"

"Oh my god." Doyoung groans and snatches Taeyong's hand, then rubs his finger on the towel, "You're disgusting."

"What did I taste like?"

"What?"

"Please, I'm so curious."

"I'll tell you after you sleep."

Taeyong whines, but leaves it at that. As Doyoung wipes him clean he stays dutifully still, and once the previous heat leaves his body he shivers slightly under Doyoung's touch.

"Hey," Taeyong pouts, "Enough of that, come back here."

"Just a moment.'

"But I'm cold!"

Doyoung throws away the towel and squints at the room, trying to locate Taeyong's clothes. "Don't be a baby," he says as he picks them up. 

Doyoung helps Taeyong back into his shorts and t-shirt, Taeyong's messy hair falling on his eyes as his head pops out. He shakes it off to look up at Doyoung, "I could be your baby."

Doyoung's stomach buzzes. "Shut up…" he mutters, but his cheeks betray him. They burn.

Before getting back into bed, Doyoung takes off his socks and puts them awkwardly on Taeyong's feet. Taeyong chuckles, "What…?"

"I can't have you getting sick again," Doyoung says as he pulls them down, "I always take them off in my sleep anyway."

"That's really cute. You're cute."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Doyoung sighs. For a moment he wonders how his life without Taeyong would be. Probably calmer. Probably less stressful for his heart. It wouldn't have to go into cardiac arrest every time Taeyong gives him that look.

What a colorless life that would be.

As soon as Doyoung gets into bed Taeyong snuggles against him. He rubs his nose on the crook of Doyoung's neck, arm looped around his waist, legs tangled. "Hmm, warm," he says.

"Will you sleep now?"

"Yes."

Doyoung finds Taeyong's hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss. He closes his eyes.

"Doyoung-ah?"

"Hmm?"

"I like you too. A lot."

Doyoung lets his eyes flutter open. He can't see Taeyong's face, only feel his calm breathing against his neck, smell the conditioner on his hair, still a bit sweaty. Comforting, familiar. The room is a dark shade of grey but Doyoung's heart warms up as if they were under the gentle sun of Spring.

Doyoung breathes all of it in. "Then I'm yours."

Just as Taeyong's smile spreads against his neck an early bird lets out its first cry, far away, announcing Doyoung's defeat. Doyoung lets out a long sigh and allows his eyelids to finally fall. This is all that herbal tea's fault, yes, but if Doyoung puts his pride aside for a moment he can catch a glimpse of another truth about himself—that on some rare, rare occasions, Taeyong's victories are Doyoung's victories too.

Taeyong's fingers squeeze Doyoung's hand gently, and Doyoung thinks, Maybe having some herbal tea every once in a while isn't that bad after all.