The Next Morning
Zixuan blinked his eyes open slowly, wincing at the dull ache he felt all over his body. Sunlight filtered through the curtain, exposing the deed they did yesterday.
He shifted slightly, trying to adjust himself but regretted it immediately.
He was sore all over.
"Ugh," he groaned, his voice hoarse, his body was stiff from what happened yesterday night.
Memories came back in flashes—every touch and word spouted that night. His cheeks turned red, not with embarrassment but from frustration.
How could he allow Haoran do him like that?
He turned to the side and spotted Haoran sleeping. Arm around his waist, his hair was tousled—probably his handiwork—his face was very peaceful. Too peaceful for someone who didn't allow him to sleep even after he pleaded.
Zixuan narrowed his eyes.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath as he removed Haoran's arm and adjusted himself with much difficulty.
And he did the most normal thing, He could think of.
