#taeyang

He’s grinning from ear to ear when you turn back to face him and although you roll your eyes, your own lips start to turn up as well. You whisper his name once more half-heartedly, your last hidden attempt at giving him an out in case for some reason he changed his mind about wanting you to stay the night. 

He drags you all the way to his bedroom door and takes each of your hands in his. He clutches them tightly and holds them low in the space between you, practically rocking back and forth on his feet from the adrenaline coursing through his blood. 

“Please, stay. I really don't want you to drive, especially this late, it’s dangerous.” 

You take one playfully step away from him as his grip on your hands tighten, and he looks at you with such round, hopeful eyes, you almost cave in, but your nerves hold you back. 

“I only live ten minutes away…” 

He lessens the gap between you until your feet are brushing and he whispers so close, you can feel his breath mixing with yours, “Ten minutes too far.”

You bite back your smile as he leans in to press a firm kiss to your lips that draws it out. A laugh escapes you and he kisses you through that too until you feel woozy and like your knees might give out from under you. 

“Come on… You’re tired, too,” he pleads while knocking your foreheads together once. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

His whole face scrunches at your question. “Am I supposed to act like I haven't been thinking about this for weeks?”

A soft heat settles across your face and to distract from it you lightly slap his arm, trying and failing to disguise how pleased you are by him.

He notices—ofc course he does—and reaches an arm back to blindly open his door and lead you in, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The second your feet cross the threshold of his door; those familiar butterflies begin fluttering around in your stomach. You’ve been in his room before once when he first gave you a tour of his space, but never like this—to spend the night. 

He lets go of your hands and you shuffle on your two feet, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you contemplate what you should do next. You watch as he opens his closet, plucking a few things out, before stepping back over to you. He holds his clothes out to you and you take them with confusion.

Sensing your uncertainty, he says, “They're for you to sleep in… unless you want to sleep in those.”

You look down at your baggy jeans and top and grimace before meeting his eyes again with a grateful smile. He takes you to his bathroom to get changed before gesturing to the bottom drawer under the sink. 

“There's a new toothbrush in that drawer.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Why do you have a new toothbrush on standby?” 

“Incase you ever wanted to stay over,” he says so casually as if that one simple sentence wasn't enough to have you swooning and your heart soaring. He quickly pecks you before closing the door and leaving you with your hysteria.

You stand there for a moment, holding his clothes to your chest as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. Okay, this is fine. I’m fine, everything is good, you try to convince yourself despite the tremble in your hands as you slip off your own shirt and replace it with his. His scent envelopes you, calming your nerves a fraction. 

You slip on the sleep pants he’s given you as well and quickly brush your teeth before you press your palms flat against the counter and lean forward, forcing yourself to take slow breaths. You splash your still warm cheeks with a bit of cold water before straightening and reaching for the door handle. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat, but you pull open the door anyway.

The lights are off save for the lamp on the side table; Taeyang is lying on the bed, his phone illuminating his face. The second he sees you, he turns the phone off and tosses it somewhere behind him on the bed to give you his full attention. His eyes slowly take you in and he smiles. 

It’s so soft, and tender, and warm; a whole new wave of heat rushes to your face and you wish you could run back into the bathroom and douse your skin with cool water. You stop in the middle of the room, your fingers twisting together in front of you, knotting and unknotting to release any bit of jitterness  in your body. 

He notices and shifts to his back and reaches both his arms up toward you, making the most ridiculous grabby hands for a man his age—you can’t believe this is who you’re nervous to get in bed with. 

A surprised laugh escapes you to ease some of the tension in your shoulders which you suspect is part of his plan. It works because you find yourself moving towards him more willingly until your knees are pressing into the mattress beside him. His hand finds your wrist and he gently guides you down until you are lying pressed against his side, your head resting on his outstretched arm. 

The moment you fully settle he curls it around you. You’re hyper-aware of everything. Of every inch of his skin pressed against yours and of the steady rise and fall of his chest.

You try not to pull your full weight on him despite the ache already forming in your neck, not wanting to be the cause of his arm falling asleep. He exhales, long and deep, a sigh of relief while you lie there in the silence, your hand cradled to your chest, unsure of what to do with them. Your heart is hammering so hard, you pray he can’t feel it.

When his thumb starts moving against your arm you stiffen more but then after a while, some of the tension bleeds from you. Then his other hand moves to your knee to guide your leg up and over his lap until your thigh is draped over him. A breath catches in your throat that you hold as he settles and slides his hand back under his head. 

You lie there like you’re in a game of freeze-tag and the prize is a million dollars, not moving an inch. His breathing starts to even out and all you can do is count the seconds between each exhale, three… four… five… si—

“Honey… you can breathe normally.”

It rushes out of you in a shaky exhale—you didn’t even realize you were holding it in your frenzied state. You cringe at yourself because Why’m I getting nervous cuddling at my grown age— but he silences any intrusive thoughts.

“Just relax,” he murmurs into your ear. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You’re okay.

You close your eyes and focus on breathing. Your body gradually sinks deeper into him, the frantic beat of your heart slowing. Eventually you test the waters and uncurl one hand from your chest and smooth it flat across his stomach, slyly peeking at him above you. He makes a noise, a small and content hum that sets something inside you alight. 

You feel his fingers slide over and between yours, pressing your palm more firmly against his stomach, and that’s what does it. The last of the tension releases and you try to press closer, though it’s impossible. Your eyelids grow heavy until your breathing finally matches his, and just after his lips brush your forehead, you slip completely under.

And Taeyang lies there in the dark, staring hard at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight as he repeats the words like a mantra:

Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.

He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that sleep will take him soon, or else it’s going to be a long night. 

—

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