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She had come home late.
How strange, that despite her not living there, it had started feeling like home.
Today, she was supposed to be done with work, but her unreliable boss added a few more tasks to her already burdened plate. She had apologised to Ziqi profusely, saying that she’d be there late, but he had taken it in good stride.
She found him in his bedroom, already passed out. She tried to move as silently as she could, to use the restroom and brush her teeth, take a quick bath and slip into her night pyjamas. And once she finally felt the day stripped off her skin, she wormed her way into the bed, through the duvet and pillows, the centre radiating with his heat. She tried to resist the urge but found herself pushing her cold toes next to his warm ones, trying to siphon any heat for herself. He frowned, not yet quite awake, but clearly annoyed.
She watched the dark tufts of hair sitting on his forehead. How did he always look so good? She put a cold hand on his cheek, right before his jawline began, which he cringed away from.
Her eyes lit up.
“Will you answer even in your sleep?”
“You fall asleep before me though.”
She lightly dropped her fist on his shoulder while he hissed in mock-pain. “Answer the question!”
“You should wake me up so I can answer.”
“Ziqi”, she called out now, her voice a puff of air in the space between them.
He responded in a low hum, as if to placate her. she stifled a laughter. So, he really did respond, even in his sleep.
“Ziqi, do you love me?” she said, her voice getting softer on the word ‘love,’ as if it was treacherous of her to say it out loud and so early in their relationship.
He purred under her, the vibration low and throaty. She dipped her hand to his neck, now slightly warmer herself. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t move away anymore, as if content to lay here forever.
Or maybe, she thought, you’re just delusional because he is fast asleep.
“Then do you hate me?”
“Hmm.”
She pouted. “After all, you are agreeing to everything.”
She felt another small rumble, though it soon devolved into not a hum, but a laugh.
“You’re awake?!”
He opened his sleepy eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep through all of that, hm?”
Her eyes darted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Who is the one who snuck their cold body in?”
“Then what, you wanted me to sleep on the blanket?” she snapped, albeit softly. She raised one end of the cloth. “Okay, I’ll go home then—”
He reeled her in, and she landed with her back against his chest with an ‘oomph’ noise from her. his arms wrapped around her waist, warm hands against her t-shirt. It reminded her of last night, the way he kissed her neck in the kitchen, asking her to stay. She shivered.
He moved closer, head next to hers. “Still cold?”
“No,” she mumbled, though to explain why she shivered would be a longer conversation than she could manage.
“Then can you sleep like this?”
“But your arms might hurt soon.”
“Then I’ll tickle you until you get off me.”
“I’m not ticklish,” she said almost petulantly.
His tone was equal parts amused and mischievous. “Is that right?”
Before she could warn him of untrue dire consequences, he was tackling at her midriff. Once her first giggle was out, he honed in.
“Let me sleep!” she yelped, all the while writhing from the sensation. She was still laughing when the sensation changed, and Ziqi was still under her until she realised the problem.
Her tee had ridden up, his fingers resting on her skin. She took a deep breath, the movement pushing her into his hand. He twitched, his breath unsteady. Miaomiao bit her lip, so as not to betray the sparks she felt low in her tummy. He tentatively skimmed over her, just at her ribcage, and she couldn’t help it—she gasped.
“Miaomiao,” he said, not to make a point, but only to have her name on his lips. His hot hand slipped under the ruched hem, inching higher and higher.
He had moved even closer, somehow, head now on hers, as if he had to see what he was doing to her. She found herself looking down too, to see the outline of his knuckles under her threadbare tee, the sight so gloriously hot she felt tongue-tied.
He pressed his palm against her sternum, right at her cleavage. She felt him tremble, his fingers fanning out right where the cups ended and her chest began. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he whispered against her ear, sounding as undone as she felt, and she could feel the flush of heat travelling everywhere until she didn’t know who was warmer anymore: him or her.
She felt herself arching, just slightly, almost like she was offering herself right into his hands, and as her hips moved fractionally, snug against his. His next breath was more of a whine. “Is this okay?” he asked. “We can stop.”
She shook her head.
“No, stop, or no, keep going? I need you to say it.”
“Keep going,” she managed to say.
He reached up to lower the cups of her bra until her tits were free. One hand reached and cupped her. She arched further, feeling him hardening behind her. Was that…?
“Miaomiao, I want to see you.”
“I’m…I’m too shy.”
“I’m shy too,” he said, resting his forehead on her shoulder. “All of this is as new to me as it is to you, Miaomiao, so look at me, please.”
She turned over to face him, top pushed above her breasts as her bra was still hooked, his hands now clutching at her back. He looked like a puppy, face all pink but with these serious eyes.
“You’re killing me. You’re so perfect, you know that?”
She reached out to him, hand at his throat. It may have become a favourite spot for her. “I’m not.”
He shook his head. “You are. Sometimes I feel like worshipping you. I think I may have spent my whole life waiting for you.”
She cradled his face. “Ziqi,” she said, her voice nearly breaking, “I can’t live without you anymore, you know that?”
And she didn’t know who leaned in first and closed the gap, but they were kissing again. This was no longer the playful kisses they’d exchanged before; this was a kiss that spoke of desperation and need. She pulled the collar of his shirt and he fumbled with the hooks of her bra, only to twirl her, pinning her against the bed. He kissed a line down her throat. She ached to be kissed again, but before she could voice that his lips were around her nipple, tongue against the tip. Her hips moved against his thigh, almost instinctively.
She tugged at his hem. “Take this off.”
He pulled away and lifted his t-shirt by the collar. God knows where it landed because he was kissing her again, shaky from the adrenaline. Their hips were flushed together, moving in grating circles. She clutched at his back, marvelling at the silky slide of his skin. At how the two of them were unravelling. Skin on skin, breath on breath, the friction of their pants separating them but the sensation of his cock so vivid it made her hotter and hotter until she was burning up. Why had no one told her that desire was a fever carving its way outside to in, to her every nerve?
She could feel the slick between her legs, could actually hear how wet she was while they humped into each other. She slid a hand down his chest and he turned near frantic, pushing harder into her, whimpering her name as if in prayer. This, she thought, is what it feels like to be worshipped.
“Miaomiao, I’m gon—I’m…” his voice was slurring from both the kissing and the rush.
She pulled him in for a deeper kiss, sucking onto his tongue, and he stuttered and moaned into her mouth, finally coming undone but still rutting against her, his bangs slick with sweat. He twitched against her wet heat, and she could feel herself pulse in time with her heartbeat, feeling something wild in her blood.
He gave her one chaste kiss before collapsing into her, the weight of his comforting. She could feel every intake of air, every exhale as he calmed himself enough to get on his elbows again. “Didn’t mean to crush you,” he said.
There was so much she wanted to say—did he like it as much as she did? Is he feeling okay? But the first thing she managed to do was giggle, hands covering her cheeks. “I can’t believe we did that.”
His replying smile was so beautiful, she would have painted it if she could. “Me neither. Did you like it? it wasn’t too much for you?”
Look at him, she thought, using all my lines. She looped her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
She saw his pupils dilate. “What?”
“I said I love you,” she mumbled. “What kind of reaction is this?”
He kissed the edges of her mouth, the tips of her eyebrows, her eyelids. “I love you too. I love you enough to find you no matter where you go because you and me, we’re connected. Do you believe that?” he asked, eyebrows bunched together. “Do you understand?”
She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” She pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m right here, Ziqi.”
He smiled, and she felt this hunch, deep down, that her every dream would soon come true.