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Qin is quietly surprised by how calm everything is.
Calmness should feel almost inappropriate, with the day they’ve just had, with what happened on stage. Even now the memory of how he’s frozen makes his stomach tighten uncomfortably, and he just knows that it will haunt him for a long time.
And yet, everything feels almost stilled now.
He’s sitting on his couch, body drained, one hand loosely clasped between his knees, the other on the back of the couch bent to support his head. Across from him sits the boy who should be filling the room with restless movements and loud energy.
Duang, instead, is being extremely soft and quiet, asking questions about Qin’s feelings and their performance, and answering Qin’s own inquires the same way.
That, more than anything tonight, unsettles Qin in a strange, tender way.
The Duang everyone knows is bright and unstoppable, you simply cannot exist in the same room as him and not notice him. But never taking space, just filling it. He laughs loudly, reacts even louder, as if he isn’t experiencing every emotion to the maximum, he’s not truly living it.
Now, however, he sits across from Qin with relaxed shoulders, gaze steady and warm as always, but still. When he speaks, his voice carries none of its usual theatrical effects, or his overly sweet tone that he only uses when he’s trying to be cute to Qin. It’s gentle, thoughtful, and careful in a way that makes Qin’s head spin.
For months now, Duang has hovered at the edges of his life with stubborn patience. Qin had assumed that he’d eventually get tired, like the rest of people who have tried to flirt with him; a brief fascination for his cool uninterested personality, thinking they’ll be the ones to break it. Qin knows what makes him interesting is that he never lets anyone close enough to see the ordinary human being underneath his coldness.
People, of course, eventually grow tired of that distance, not understanding that it’s just who Qin is. He’s not trying to be difficult.
Duang never has.
He simply stayed.
He’s endured Qin’s long silences, or rude answers, and every single barrier he’s put up. He’s stayed through long rehearsals for something that is Qin’s passion, not his own. He’s stayed when Qin had physically and figurately pushed him away.
Duang’s waited without complaint, without pressuring, smiling in that bright, infuriating perfect way of his, as if he already knows the door will open for him someday.
So when Duang says, a soft smile on his mouth and warmth in his tone, “I’ll always have your back,” Qin believes him.
The words settle in the quiet room, and Qin does not respond.
Instead, he studies the other’s face, committing the details to memory the way he often does when the other isn’t looking. He sees the restless energy that Duang seems to still have beneath his calm posture, but he especially notices the earnest sincerity that Duang never tries to hide.
Qin has never been good at expressing himself, he feels his emotions are too large to put into words, too imposing and vulnerable. Silence has always been easier, safer.
But the silence has also meant Duang has spent months giving affection to someone who is undeserving of it, someone who’s rarely capable of returning it. He’s celebrated every single milestone, from the first time Qin smiled at him, to their first movie together.
Qin knows how unfair that is.
They talk a little more, about Sol and Peem, about the crowd. Qin posts a story and tags Duang, and he celebrates it as another accomplishment.
Qin hears himself speaking more honestly than he usually allows.
“It’s an important Story,” he says quietly. “I want to treasure it while I can.”
Duang’s expression goes even softer.
Qin realizes, slowly and with a clarity that surprised him, that he is tired.
Not physically, not because of the dancing and the singing and the panicking, but emotionally.
He’s tired of pretending he does not feel as much as he does. He’s tired of watching Duang give so much without receiving anything certain in return. He’s tired of protecting himself from a future that he’s becoming more and more aware of how improbable it is, tired of being scared of a future where Duang gets tired of him.
Duang is loud, chaotic and impulsive.
But when it matters, when Qin needs it, he becomes something else entirely: steady, warm, reliable in a way that feels almost frightening, because Qin wants to rely on him forever.
A quiet decision settles inside him.
Duang deserves honesty. They both deserve this.
Duang’s leaning back slightly against the couch, watching him as if he’s aware of the storm gathering inside Qin.
Qin moves before he has time to reconsider, and slowly and carefully sits up. His body feels heavy as he shifts across the distance between them, every small movement deliberate. The world seems unusually still as he lowers himself beside Duang and leans forward.
He rests his head gently against Duang’s chest. His hand curls loosely and rests in a fist against the warmth of the other’s stomach.
Qin cannot see his face from this angle, but he can hear Duang’s chest start beating wildly beneath his ear.
“T-Ter,” Duang stammers softly. “You can’t do this.” Qin can hear the unmistakable smile.
Duang’s heart is going so fast that Qin’s almost laughs, though the sound never quite reaches his throat because the feeling of pure peacefulness that overtakes his entire body.
“Why not?” Qin murmurs.
“Wel…” Duang exhales shakily. “I’m flustered.”
Qin smiles.
Qin knows Duang well enough by now to understand what is happening. Duang wants this closeness, Qin has never doubted that, but he is also restraining himself with surprising discipline. He’s still being careful not to take anything that Qin has not explicitly offered.
Even now, with Qin resting on him, Duang’s hand remain still in their previous position, not touching Qin at all. He’s simply allowing Qin to exist there, leaning against him, his entire body tense with contained excitement.
The realization sends something tender through Qin’s chest.
He lifts his head slightly, shifting his weight until his cheek brushes against Duang’s shoulder instead. The movement brings them even closer, his face now near the curve of Duang’s neck, the faint scent of him, which he first noticed the morning he woke up curled against him, drifting into Qin’s senses.
He breathes it in slowly and feels drunk with it. The closeness feels overwhelming in the best of ways.
For months Duang has stood within reach, bright and unwavering, and now Qin has crossed the line, so this contact feels monumental. And he knows Duang appreciates it as that, too.
He lets his head rest there for a while. Recharging his energy, gathering the courage required for what comes next.
Duang does not move, he simply waits.
His breathing, though, gradually grows heavier, the tension in his body unmistakable. His hands remain exactly where they were, he does not rush it, or break the fragile stillness that Qin has created.
Qin would appreciate if Duang moved one arm over him, to hug him too, but he cherishes the restrain, too, and it makes his chest ache for this perfect boy that landed at his feet.
Qin presses slightly closer, his face hidden against Duang’s neck now, his eyes closed. His every inhale must be brushing against Duang’s skin.
For someone who has spent months chasing him with relentless enthusiasm, Duang is being so careful. Qin had half-expected a scream at least.
After a while, Duang’s voice breaks the silence.
“Are you feeling better now?”
Qin keeps his eyes closed, wanting to savor the moment more.
“Just a little longer.” His voice is nearly muffled where the words brush against the warm skin of Duang’s neck.
He doesn’t mean it teasingly, he’s not testing Duang’s patience, but asking. For a little more, just a few more seconds, because he’s almost ready.
Duang huffs out a faint laugh.
“You’re such a tease.”
Qin can still hear the smile in the words.
“Be patient” Qin ask, begs.
Qin doesn’t know how long it takes for him to begin to move, but he leaves his safe hiding spot reluctantly.
He pulls back, supporting himself with his hands against the couch between them. The movement is slow enough that he has time to watch Duang’s face as it comes back into view.
Fuck. He’s so handsome.
Duang’s smiling, small and vulnerable. The corners of his mouth curved with nervous excitement, his eyes bright in a way that tell Qin he can hardly believe what’s happening. As if this moment feels too good to be truth.
That expression sends a quiet surge of courage through Qin, wanting the moment to be even better, so he speaks.
“Shall we take this more seriously?”
Duang blinks. Once, twice, three times.
Then his entire expression short-circuits.
“Huh?”
He hurriedly sits up straighter, shifting until they’re facing each other properly on the couch.
“You said… what?” His breathing has started to pick up again.
Qin feels strangely calm as he clarifies, making direct eye contact.
“Like…” He pauses briefly, searching for the right words, the words Duang deserves. “Let it be known that I’m officially interested in you,” Another small pause. “okay?”
For a moment, Duang simply stares at him.
Then, something bright spreads across his face. His reaction to his efforts finally paying off is a growing smile. He looks thrilled as if he’s savoring every second without wanting to rush though it.
When he finally speaks, his voice is warm and delighted. “That’s great,” A breath. “That’s excellent.”
He’s smiling from ear to ear now, and Qin understands why Duang always pretends to faint when Qin says something bold to him.
Duang looks extremely happy, and yet, his hands remain carefully to himself, resting as though he doesn’t dare assume anything more. As though this alone is already the greatest gift he could receive.
The sight erases the last remnants of doubt.
Slowly, so slowly, Qin begins to lean forward.
Qin can clearly see the moment Duang realizes what’s about to happen. His eyes move erratically, from eye to eye, down to his lips, then back to his eyes then down again.
He doesn’t move away. Of course he doesn’t.
Duang simply waits. Just like he always does.
Their faces grow closer and closer. Close enough that Qin can feel the warmth of Duang’s breath against his lips like a last warning.
Duang’s eyes close slowly, and the trust in that simple gesture makes Qin close the remaining distance.
The kiss is soft, gentle, only a simple press of lips against lips. It’s a moment of light contact, like they’re testing the reality of it all.
Duang doesn’t move at all. He doesn’t chase the kiss or deepen it. He doesn’t get up and scream and run around the couch. He simply accepts it, frozen in place like he’s afraid that even breathing too hard might make the moment disappear.
When Qin pulls back slightly, only far enough to see Duang’s face again. The look he receives is one of pure awe.
Something in that shared look shifts the balance between them. Qin can feel their dynamic changing forever.
Perhaps it’s permission. But, most probably, it’s just understanding. Being on the same page.
This time, Duang moves.
He leans forwards slowly, making sure Qin can easily pull away if he wants to. His gaze flickers again between Qin’s eyes and mouth, looking mesmerized, but also searching for hesitation that never appears. A hesitation that Qin refuses to have any longer.
When they’re really close again, Duang pauses for just a second. Then, he tilts his head to the other side and kisses him.
This one is nothing like the first. The moment their lips meet, the restraint Duang has been holding onto all night, all these months, seems to unravel at once.
The kiss deepens quickly, warm and urgent, electricity flooding into Qin’s every nerve. It’s the result of months of quiet longing that finally have an outlet; and Duang is not letting it go to waste.
Qin is caught completely off guard.
Duang’s mouth moves with surprising confidence, his lips sure and insistent as he draws Qin into a rhythm that shatters him.
Qin’s never expected Duang to be such a good kisser, or so bold.
The realization leaves him momentarily perplexed, and he knows he’s struggling a bit to keep up.
One of Duang’s hands moves to Qin’s hip, gently resting there and fingers tightening slightly every so often. It sends small shocks of warmth through Qin’s body that make his toes curl.
Every time they briefly separate, to breathe or shift angles, he catches Duang smiling. A mischievous little smirk that flashes before he leans back in to devour Qin’s lips once more.
It’s equally dizzying and exhilarating.
Qin barely realizes how much time has passed until something more unexpected happens: Duang’s teeth trap Qin’s bottom lip, biting him intently.
The sensation is sudden enough that Qin pulls back in surprise.
Duang freezes immediately.
He looks at Qin with wide electric eyes, excitement and nervousness clear as day. He looks like someone who has just stumbled upon unimaginable luck. The expression carries an edge of disbelief, as though he still can’t quite believe any of this is real.
Qin studies him for a moment, then he lifts one hand, his fingers coming to rest gently against Duang’s cheek. The warmth of his skin is surprisingly comforting beneath Qin’s palm.
His thumb drifts down, brushing lightly across Duang’s bottom lip, exactly where Duang had bitten his own.
Duang goes completely still, but the look he gives Qin is reverent, ready to follow wherever Qin leads.
The expression draws a dormant, amused feeling from deep in Qin’s chest.
“Good boy,” Qin murmurs softly.
It’s both a tease and an appreciation.
Qin watches Duang barely react to the words, still looking at him with the same amazed glee. Then, he stands up.
Duang tracks his movement as he rises from the couch, looking up at him with those dreamy eyes.
Qin makes another decision.
He reaches forward and gathers the front of Duang’s t-shirt in his fist, pulling him up as well.
He pulls by the fabric the entire short walk into his bedroom, not rough but certain. Duang stumbles after him willingly, his hands hovering awkwardly for a second before letting them fall against his sides.
His bedroom is only lit by a faint blue light from his desk, which sets the mood exactly the way Qin wants.
Qin releases Duang’s shirt to press him down onto the edge of the side of the mattress. Duang sits immediately, as pliant as he’s been the entire time, like he’s waiting to be told exactly what to do.
Qin remains standing, almost between his knees but not quite.
For a moment, he just stays there, watching Duang’s throat bob as he gulps nervously, studying his needy eyes, his flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips.
Qin has barely started and he looks wrecked already.
Slowly, both to savor the moment and to tease Duang a bit more, Qin lifts his hand.
His fingers brush against the side of Duang’s neck, caressing the skin down with a light touch and watching Duang inhale sharply. His touch is unhurried, curious, mapping every single detail.
Qin lets his fingers drift downward, tracing along the warm skin and the fabric until he gets a fistful of the collar of the shirt again. With a harsher tug, the top button gives away with a sudden pop.
The shirt falls open, exposing Duang’s left collarbone and the top of his chest. Qin licks his lips, mesmerized by the sight, then his gaze lifts back to Duang’s face to find him with an even more dazed expression, watching him carefully.
Duang’s not hiding how much he wants this, ogling at him shamelessly, and Qin takes it as a challenge.
Qin steps back once, twice, maintaining his eyes on Duang’s face. Duang’s eyes drift lower, looking at him head to toe a couple of times, like he can’t believe Qin’s real. Qin sees the other boys’ grip on the sheets tighten visibly and turns around so Duang can’t see his smirk.
He walks toward the bathroom, leaves the door open, and stands in front of it. Behind him, he can practically feel Duang’s stare burning into his back.
He begins to undress like that, back turned to the other, with deliberate calmness. First his shirt, which earns him a sharp inhale. Then, he unbuttons his jeans next. He can practically imagine the exact moment Duang’s attention drops lower.
Slowly, Qin pushes the denim down his hips alongside his boxers, stepping out of them and leaving them pooled on the floor by his feet.
For a moment, he simply stands there, his back still turned, knowing Duang’s staring.
Then, Qin glances over his shoulder to find Duang in the exact same position he left him, wide eyes fixed on him, completely stunned.
But very, very focused.
“Come on,” Qin says, being as seductive as he can manage.
Duang moves immediately, standing and nearly tripping over himself as he rushes to cross the few steps between them.
When he reaches the bathroom doorway, though, he hesitates. His hand catches the doorframe, taking a moment to just look with a small smirk on his face. Up. Down. Back up again.
Qin turns fully toward him.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I’m trying to be respectful,” Duang whines in response.
Qin raises an eyebrow at him “You’re failing.”
Duang responds with a toothy smile, which quickly softens in a way that means he wants the next words to be taken with the utmost seriousness.
“You’re the most beautiful being on the planet.”
The intensity and solemnity of the tone leave Qin speechless.
Without another word, he steps forward and reaches for Duang’s shirt again. This time Qin removes it properly, Duang raising his arms to help him instantly, almost automatically.
He repeats the action he did before, caressing the side of Duang’s neck with two fingers, but this time he moves them down around the other’s torso, appreciating the beautiful sight.
Then, his hands move to the waistband of Duang’s pants next, even slower now to give Duang time to back down. Duang does not.
When the last piece of fabric joins the pile on the floor, they’re left standing close enough to feel each other’s body heat, looking at each other in shock and accumulated want.
Then, Duang surges forward, taking Qin’s lips in his again.
The kiss that follows is slower but deeper than the ones they shared on the couch. Qin presses Duang against the bathroom wall next to the door, the taller one going willingly, hands finally allowing themselves to move to Qin’s bare skin.
They first settle against his waist, but they quickly decide they want to explore. Qin feels Duang’s welcomed hands everywhere, his shoulders, tangled on his hair, down his back, his sides and hips. It’s as if now that he’s gotten the green light, Duang cannot be bothered to stop.
Qin takes a leap and moves his lips from the other’s to Duang’s neck, which makes Duang moan for the first time, loud and shameless in the quiet room. He moves his head to the side to give Qin more space, his fingers going lower to brush along Qin’s thigh, almost reverently, but skipping what’s between them.
Qin’s enjoying this completely, but he’s also beyond ready to get more.
“Shower,” He commands.
Duang nods immediately.
Once they’re under the hot water, Qin wastes no time pulling Duang by the back of the head and kissing him again. Duang is quick to suck Qin’s lower lip into his mouth before trying to use tongue for the first time. Qin makes a small noise of appreciation in the back of his throat and reciprocates with his own.
Qin feels so warm, hot water spraying over them, the simple and intimate act of making out for the sake of it, stretching for a long while.
At some point it’s Qin who ends up against one of the glass walls of the shower, Duang pressing kisses all over his skin:his face, his neck, his collarbones, his shoulders.
Qin feels completely worshipped.
At some point Duang’s attention returns, inevitable, to Qin’s legs.
Qin watches Duang intense burning eyes.
“You really like them that much?”
Duang huffs an almost shy laugh, “I can’t help it. Have you seen them?”
Qin snorts at the frankness, which makes Duang’s eyes widen.
“What?”
“You laughed!” He points at him, like an accusation. He sounds completely giddy. “I made you laugh!”
Qin blinks a few times, watching the wet hair plastered to Duang’s forehead.
“We’re showering together, and that’s what you’re focusing on?” He questions lightly, letting his hands rest on Duang’s chest. It’s firmer that one would expect from an artist guy who does not exercise regularly.
“Of course!” Duang says lightly. “I want to focus on everything. Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?”
And if anyone else had asked that question in this context, it would have pissed Qin off. He would think this person had only been trying to get to his body, like a trophy to win over.
However, this is Duang talking, someone who’s made it abundantly clear how much he wants Qin’s mind and soul as much as he wants his body.
Qin leans forward and presses their foreheads together and rakes his nails through Duang’s hair, which makes him shudder.
“I know.” Qin answers the rhetorical question. “You’ve been so good, waiting for me.” He reassures him, then adds, with a mischievous smirk. “Now do something about it.”
Duang inhales, looks at him for a second, then nods sharply before dropping to his knees.
Qin follows him with his gaze, his eyes widening and his breath catching.
Duang looks so good like that, looking up at him with those same adoring, worshipping eyes.
His hands rise to Qin’s hips, squeezing them firmly as he shamelessly looks at him for a minute before raising his gaze again.
“Ter,” he purrs, “Can I?”
Qin is at a loss of words, his horny brain losing all knowledge of any language. He’s quick to nod, though, not wanting to make Duang think he’s anything but eager.
Duang, thankfully, doesn’t waste any more time. He finally reaches between Qin’s legs and curls a hand around him firmly as he licks his lips.
Qin grunts, pleasure cursing through his entire body, his head hitting the glass he’s pressed against.
Duang looks back up at Qin. “I’ve never done this before, like, with a guy.”
Qin suppresses the jealousy, the urge to ask with how many girls he has done it with. He knows it’s irrational, and he has better, more important things to focus on. It’s also a little difficult to stay mad for more than a second with Duang’s hand around his dick, stroking him slowly.
“Do you want to?”
The response in instant “Please,” Duang begs. “Let me make you feel good.”
“You already are.” Qin breathes out.
And it seems to do the trick, because the next thing he knows, Duang is leaning in, taking him past his lips.
Qin considers himself quite average, not small but manageable, so he isn’t surprised when Duang can easily take half of it into his mouth from the get-go, moaning as though he’s the one receiving pleasure from the action.
Qin moans in response, one hand pressing against the wall, the other going to rest on Duang’s shoulder for support.
Duang, the quick learner he is, uses his hand for the lower half, moving his mouth up and down on the parts he can manage. He keeps making this sloppy, happy sounds as he eagerly goes down to town, focused and enthusiastic.
When Duang hollows his cheeks after dipping his tongue into the slit, like a fucking professional, Qin curses under his breath.
“Duang” He gasps, “Fuck.”
Duang takes it as a sign to go faster, his free hand grabbing and squeezing Qin’s thigh.
It only takes a few minutes for Qin’s stomach to tense, his vision blurring as he warns “D-Duang, I’m close.”
Duang seems to think about it for a second, before he retreats and stands up, his hand now working over his entire length in a tight fist.
He kisses Qin’s neck apologetically, “I’ll swallow next time.”
Qin wraps both arms around the other’s shoulders for support, feeling like he’s going to collapse any moment.
“Don’t worry about it” He manages to say.
Three more pumps later, electricity lights his entire body, vision fading into black as he comes all over Duang’s fist and their stomachs.
As time slows down, Duang still stroking him through the aftershocks, he thinks it’s the best orgasm he’s ever had.
Qin reaches down to take Duang’s hand away once he gets overstimulated. When their eyes meet again, he can see Duang’s adoration and devotion in his stare.
He takes both sides of Duang’s face and kisses him. They kiss delicately for a while, Duang seemingly in no hurry even if Qin can feel his heavy hardness pressed against him.
Qin pulls back to ask, “What do you want?”
Duang clears his throat, licks his lips and stares at Qin for a couple of seconds. “There’s no need. I just wanted to make you–”
“No, don’t give me that” He ticks his tongue, reproachingly. Duang pouts. “You’re cuming, too.” Because Qin’ll be damned if he lets Duang go unsatisfied. Duang shivers. “Unless you don’t want to…?”
Duang shakes his head quickly.
“No, no.” He assures instantly. “Duang wants to.”
Qin smiles at him, and he’s so relaxed and pleased that he’d agree to anything. “So, what do you want? My hand?” He moves his hand down Duang’s torso teasingly. “My mouth?” He moves his face next the other’s ear and blows some hair.
Duang entire body quavers with need and clear lust, one hand moving past Qin to support himself on the wall, as if he’s afraid he’ll collapse.
“Yeah,” He breathes out, “Yes. To all of that.” Then, his gaze drops down again, “But… could I…?”
Qin sighs, “What is it?” He demands, getting impatient. “Ask, the water will get cold.”
“Can I fuck your thighs?”
In an instant, Qin feels all his blood move south again, as if he hadn’t just cum less than five minutes ago.
Duang’s obsession with his legs had been a little annoying at the beginning. Now? It’s getting him hot and bothered.
Duang mistakes the way his body tenses as rejection.
“Or not, you know, it’s okay!” He’s quick to reassure. “Hands are perfectly fine. They're great!” A pause. “Or, it’s okay, let’s just shower and go to bed–”
“Don’t you dare.” Qin says, pulling the hairs on Duang’s nape.
He then pushes Duang a little, who moves a step back enough to look down and notice Qin’s hard again.
With a meaningful look, Qin turns around and plants both hands on the glass, aching his back invitingly. “Okay.”
There’s a couple of seconds where only sound is the water falling, and the blood roaring in Qin’s ears.
Then, “Really?”
“Hurry before I change my mind.” He threatens, even if he knows he won’t.
Duang is quick to move and plaster himself against Qin’s back, arms wrapping around his torso. “You’re so perfect.”
Wait and see, Qin thinks, as he grabs one of Duang’s hands, guides it in front of his mouth and spits on it. He hears Duang sharp inhale as he moves the same hand in between his thighs, spreading the saliva there on the sensitive skin. Duang’s body is on the line of the shower head, mostly preventing water from directly hitting Qin now, especially his lower part.
“Oh my god,” Duang whispers against his ear as the same hand moves between their bodies and, finally, positions his dick between Qin’s thighs. Qin regrets not having lube around to make it slicker.
Duang doesn’t seem to mind, though. His whole body trembles as he leaves shaky breaths against the skin of Qin’s nape, rocking slowly as if testing the waters.
When he starts truly moving with intent, one of his hands holds Qin in place by the hip, the other moves to the center of Qin’s chest. Qin moves to his tiptoes to make it easier, and reaches one hand back to rest on top of Duang’s on his side.
Duang is getting momentum, moving fast and gasping and moaning shamelessly, all the while muttering soft praises about Qin’s skin, his legs, his everything.
When Qin feels Duang’s rhythm start to flatter, knowing the taller one’s close, he grabs the hand on his chest and moves it down to his throbbing erection.
Duang wastes no time stroking him again, his hand matching the pace of his hips thrusts.
Qin comes first, tensing his entire body and pressing his forehead to the glass, feeling completely drained. The tension of his thighs seem to do it for Duang too, who comes seconds later. He moves his own forehead to rest on Qin’s shoulder.
They stay like that for a few seconds, breathing heavily.
Twenty minutes later finds them mostly dry, lying on the bed.
They’re on their respective sides, face to face, simply enjoying the silence and the afterglow. Their only point of contact is their hands between them, Duang absentmindedly playing with Qin’s fingers. Qin’s attention’s fixed on Duang’s soft expression.
“Thank you,” Duang murmurs after a while, a content smile on his face.
“You don’t have to thank me for sex, Duang,” Qin says, smiling a little as well.
“Not that,” Duang snorts. “Even if that was great. Fantastic. Life-changing.” He adds. Then, looking solemnly into Qin’s eyes. “Duang is thanking you for giving me a chance.”
Qin can’t help but smile from ear to ear, moving even closer. He curls an arm around Duang, who presses a hand against his chest, right over his heart.
“Thank you, for loving me like this.”
Qin still doesn’t say I love you back. But they have time.
Duang shifts lightly and, when Qin doesn’t move away, he leans up and leaves a lingering kiss on his forehead.
“It’s literally as easy as breathing.”
Even after everything that’s happened today; the singing into each other’s eyes, the making out, Duang making him cum twice – this is what makes Qin shy the most.
He snuggles deeper under the covers to hide his burning cheeks, moving until his head rests just beneath Duang’s chin.
Duang immediately wraps his arms tightly around him, letting out a soft, barely-there laugh.
“We’re not dating yet, though,” Duang tells him matter-of-factly. “I still want to ask you properly.”
Qin nuzzles his nose against Duang’s pulse point, breathing in the scene of his own soap mixed with something that’s distinctly Duang.
“Okay.”
He can’t wait.