❛ your hair smells nice... ❜ face nuzzles closer into the junction where his neck and shoulder meets, sleepiness dazes whether it's actually his HAIR seung is smelling or just the scent that usually clings to him. either way, the only thing that's deemed as important is the winding of her arms from behind him into a tight embrace as she greedily slumps against his back to rest; half-asleep.
❝ Yeah? Glad you think so. ❞Spoken on the tail-end of a wistful sigh and the smallest of giggles, Xiumin allows himself to relish in this for a moment or two, content with the temporary silence and calm atmosphere it brings. It’s impossibly simple, the way his body naturally relaxes against the weight of hers, as if slipping into a steady rhythm—-slipping into the ease she brings. Even easier is the way his fingers slide against hers, palm flattening against where hers lie on his abdomen, the inkling of a smile blooming at the edges of his lips. And, with his trance finally broken from the work before him, he notes how sun no longer filters in through the windows and the dull, broken sounds of the city’s nightlife can be heard through muffled walls and locked doors. Had he really been at it for that long? Perhaps, then, the weight she rests against him isn’t simply for comfort—-he can’t really see her, even when he cocks his head to the side and glances over his shoulder, but surely it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s lilting her voice and lulling her body into him. ❝ Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable on the bed? ❞