Shadows dance aflutter under the single lamp of the nightstand, the lingering scent of Moët filling the air along with boisterous giggles and the sweet hum of rain trickling against the windows. Your heels rest forgotten and half-strapped in the hallway, evening gown creased as you sit sideways in Donghyuck’s lap. His own tie sits unfastened around his neck, blazer hanging off the edge of the mattress and arms prickling warmly with the golden sequins that adorn your waist.
“And did you see Chenle’s face when the hores-doe-vures got all soggy,” he throws his head back in unrestrained laughter, his hair now lost of its formal coif, fluffy and light with his every small shift. “He was this close to losing it and-ow.” Hyuck bumps head against the wall with a small exclaim, but his laughs only grow in volume as your own begin to fill the air.
“Careful,” you giggle, hand finding its way to lightly rub at the area, and despite the fact that you probably miss it by a long shot, Hyuck still leans down and plants a sweet kiss to your lips.
“You’re welcome. And it’s pronounced or-durves,” you snicker against mouth.
“Mmm, you’re hot when you talk French to me,” he pulls away with a wriggle of his eyebrows.
“And you’re drunk, mister.”
“Well, so are you, miss.”
“Oui, oui, baguette, croissant.”
Hyuck bursts out laughing once again, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest, your own hands playing with the soft hairs by his ears as he smiles down fondly at you.
© jaetaimjadore, 2022, all rights reserved
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