Kindling a Flame

Yan Zheyun was roused from slumber by the insistent pressure of soft kisses along his neck. This wasn't an unusual way to wake up; why he'd once thought Liu Yao was frigid in bed, he would never know. The drowsy stupor of the early morning clung heavily to his brain as he tried to open his eyes but a warm hand pressed gently down on his eyelids to keep them shut. 

"Go back to sleep," he heard Liu Yao murmur, his deep, resonant voice huskier than normal at the start of the day. It only ever became like that from a lack of use overnight or when they rolled into bed together and despite the laziness that still lingered in Yan Zheyun's bones, he could feel the first stirrings of interest pooling low beneath his abdomen, a Pavlovian response that was as heady as it was embarrassing.