The room stayed quiet in that deep, syrupy way that only existed after midnight. The lights stayed off, the curtains barely breathed, and the digital clock on the nightstand glowed like a tiny, smug witness. You lay on your side, eyes wide open, staring into the dark as if it owed you answers.
Sleep refused to come.
You rolled onto your back, then to your other side. The sheets whispered every time you moved, the sound too loud in your ears. You squeezed your eyes shut, counted your breaths, tried to trick your body into giving up. It did not work. Your thoughts wandered everywhere except where they needed to go. Tomorrow’s schedule, a half remembered song, the way the ceiling fan clicked earlier. Everything arrived uninvited.
Beside you, Intak slept like the world made perfect sense.
His breathing stayed slow and steady, chest rising and falling with a rhythm that felt unfairly calm. One arm stayed thrown above his head, hair a soft mess against the pillow. He looked peaceful, the kind of peaceful that made you irrationally annoyed. You shifted again, tugging the blanket higher, then lower, then higher once more.
Nothing helped.
You sighed, loud enough to feel satisfying but quiet enough to not wake him. You tried laying completely still, as if your body were a statue someone forgot to finish. Five seconds passed. Ten. Your leg twitched on its own, traitorous. You rolled again, frustration curling in your chest.
The mattress dipped beside you.
You froze.
Intak shifted, a low sound leaving his throat as he dragged himself out of sleep. He turned toward you, eyes still closed, brows faintly knit. His hand searched blindly until it found your waist.
“What are you doing,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with sleep.
You huffed softly, staring at the wall. “I can’t sleep.”
He opened one eye, then the other, squinting at you in the dark. “You keep moving.”
“That’s because I can’t sleep.”
He hummed, clearly thinking very hard for someone awake at this hour. “You should try staying still.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Wow. Genius. Why didn’t I think of that.”
He smiled faintly, lazy and crooked, then shifted closer. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth soaked into you immediately, grounding and familiar. He tucked his chin near your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss there, barely awake.
“Just relax,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
You let yourself sink into him, despite yourself. His hand traced slow, absent patterns over your side, thumb brushing through fabric. His breathing evened out again, his body already drifting back toward sleep. You focused on the weight of him, the warmth, the quiet.
You tried.
Minutes passed. Maybe two. Maybe five.
Your mind did not slow. Your thoughts bounced, stubborn and bright. Sleep stayed just out of reach, like something you could almost touch but never grab. You swallowed, shoulders tensing.
This wasn’t working.
Carefully, you shifted, turning around in his arms until you faced him. He stirred but did not fully wake, eyes half lidded, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Up close, he looked impossibly soft. His hair fell into his eyes, lips parted slightly as he breathed. The annoyance in your chest eased, replaced by something warmer, more playful.
An idea sparked.
You grinned into the dark, a quiet, wicked curve of your lips that he could not see. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his neck. The skin there stayed warm, sensitive. You kissed once, then again, softer, lingering. His breath hitched, barely noticeable but there.
Your fingers slid over his upper body, tracing the lines of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. You felt him tense, then relax, then tense again as his sleep fractured. A low sound slipped from him, half sigh, half question.
Intaks breath caught the moment your hand brushed across his stomach, fingers tracing the ridges of muscle just above his waistband.
“Y/n,” he warned, his voice hoarse from sleep but already sharper, more awake. “That doesn’t look like sleeping.”
You smirked, your face only inches from his on the pillow. “Maybe I don’t even want to sleep anymore.” Your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his pants, nails dragging lightly against his skin.
He groaned softly, half in frustration, half in need, his hand snapping out to catch your wrist. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm,” you hummed, rolling onto him fully, your leg hooking over his waist as you straddled him beneath the blankets. “But i know you love it.”
He tried to glare at you, but the way your hair fell loose around your face, the glint in your eyes, and the heat of you pressed against him made it impossible. “You’re doing this because you’re bored?”
“No because I can’t sleep,” you corrected, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, then trailing along his jaw. “And because you’re here...looking like that.”
Intak cursed under his breath, his grip on your wrist loosening as his free hand slid to your hip. “You’re killing me, do you know that”
“Well ain't that a Good Way to go,” You murmured against his neck, before biting down just hard enough to make him groan.
He flipped you suddenly, rolling you so you were beneath him, his body caging yours in. His hair hung damp across his forehead, his eyes burning down into yours. “If you start something, don’t think I’ll let you back out of it.”
Your lips curled into a grin, your chest rising fast. “Who said anything about backing out?”
For a moment, you just stared at each other, breathing heavy, the tension sparking between you hotter than the night air. Then you pulled him down into a kiss — hungry, messy, desperate.
Your mouths collided again and again, your hands sliding under his shirt, nails dragging along his back, making him shiver. Intak groaned into your mouth, pressing his hips against yours, already hard beneath the thin fabric of his pants.
You gasped, then grinned against his lips. “See? Way better than sleeping.”
“Shut up,” he growled, kissing you harder, his hand slipping under your shirt to cup your breast.
Your moan filled the small space, muffled only when he swallowed it with another kiss. The blanket tangled around you as your bodies pressed tighter together, both of you caught between frustration and heat, neither willing to stop now that the fire was lit.
Your kisses grew sloppier, your body arching beneath his touch as his hand slid lower, slipping past your waistband. He kept his movements slow at first, testing, listening to the way your breath hitched and your hips bucked up to meet him.
“Intak…” you whispered, your voice husky, almost pleading.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers slid inside you, curling just right as his thumb worked slow, deliberate circles over your clit. You gasped, clutching his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.
He kissed you softly, muffling your moans as he worked you open, steady and patient, until you were trembling beneath him. Every twitch, every gasp only spurred him on, his chest tightening at how wrecked you looked — for him, because of him.
Your legs quivered, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Then with one more curl of his fingers and a hard flick of his thumb, you came undone, muffling your cry against his chest as your whole body shook with release.
Intak held you through it, slowing his movements until you collapsed back against the pillow, panting, your skin damp with sweat.
He pulled his hand back, smirking faintly, his own arousal straining painfully against his pants. “Your turn to—” he started, ready to guide you down to him.
But when he looked down, your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths.
You were out. Completely asleep.
“…are you kidding me?” Intak whispered, staring at your slack features in disbelief.
He groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a muffled curse. His hips shifted against the mattress, throbbing with need, and he muttered into your skin, “I hate you. You pass out now?”
You mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, curling closer into him like a satisfied cat.
Intak exhaled sharply, half in frustration, half in reluctant amusement. He pressed a kiss to your hair, grumbling, “You’re the worst,” before flopping onto his back beside you, staring at the ceiling in defeat.
