MOSQUITO BITES

Marshall laid his head on the pillow, ready to fall asleep.

Not long after getting comfortable, he heard buzzing thrumming right next to his ear. Waving a hand to chase the mosquito away, he closed his eyes. 

But as soon as Marshall felt the said mosquito biting his neck, he shot up, muttering through gritted teeth, "Damned mosquitoes."

He tried to catch it, led only by the sound, but it was too dark to see. In his blind attempts to eliminate the hindrance with wings, he didn't realize he was being too loud until the bed across from his creaked.

Wyn must've woken up. The disciple froze, blankly staring into the darkness.

Some more shuffling noise followed and a soft orange glow appeared. The candlelight allowed Marshall to see Wyn sitting on the bed, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Would you like me to use spiritual frost to freeze the mosquitoes?" the snow deity asked, his voice slightly rough from sleep.

Marshall shook his head with a chuckle, scratching his neck. "Too late. I was already bitten."

Wyn watched him without taking his eyes off, then suggested, "Lick the bites. Saliva alleviates the itching for a while."

"They're on my neck. My tongue isn't that long," Marshall quipped as he sat back.

The candlelight flickered as the snow deity stood up, coming over to Marshall's side.

"Show me where the bites are," Wyn said as he put one knee on the bed, leaning closer to inspect.

"Not sure how many there are, but they're here," Marshall tugged the collar of his nightshirt and lifted his chin, revealing a few red spots on his slender neck.

There were two red spots on the right side of his neck and one near his collarbone.

Wyn moved the candle closer, its light casting light directly on Marshall's skin. "The mosquitoes seem to like you," he commented dryly.

Marshall laughed, and was about to reply before he felt something warm and wet on his neck.

The snow deity had swiped his tongue across the red spot on his collarbone. "One," he murmured.

Wyn moved to the red spot on the left side of his neck. He gently licked it and glanced up, catching Marshall's expression, "Two."

A shiver ran through the disciple. His pulse was so loud that he was sure Wyn could hear it, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from Wyn, watching him from the corner of his eye.

Marshall's fist was clutched the blanket so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He was desperately trying to think of something witty to say to ease the tension, but his thoughts were wiped clean as slender fingers tilted his chin.

Wyn ran his tongue over a spot right below Marshall's jawline. "Three," he whispered.

Before Marshall could process it, his lips were busied and the only thing his mind could register was the feeling of Wyn's mouth on his.

Soft. Warm. Gentle, but firm.

The snow deity's hands moved to tangle in Marshall's hair, pulling him even closer. Marshall felt Wyn's tongue gliding against his bottom lip, followed by a light pull in his hair. A small moan escaped his lips, surprising himself.

There was a brief pause, then Wyn gently tugged his hair again, as if checking to see whether the reaction would repeat itself.

"You like having your hair pulled, hm?"

Marshall's mouth opened to deny, trying to yank Wyn's fingers out of his hair by the sleeve, but his hands came up empty as he opened his eyes to a bright morning.

"Huh?"

The room was flooded with sunlight, illuminating every corner. The faint scent of dew wafted from the half-open window.

Marshall sat up with a jolt, gaping at Wyn's empty bed, his mouth wide enough for a steamed bun to be stuffed inside.

It had been a dream. A dream so vivid he thought it was real. He could still feel the memory of Wyn's hand in his hair and the heat of the snow deity's lips on his own.

The disciple groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to regain his sanity.

He sat there for a long while, torn between disappointment that it wasn't real and shame because he wished it was.

But worst of all... how was he supposed to look Wyn in the eye after this?

Marshall got dressed and took a deep breath, shaking off the remnants of the dream. He tried not to scratch the mosquito bite on his neck from the previous evening. Who would've thought that something as simple as that could trigger such a dream?

As he left the bedroom, he was welcomed by the sweet scent of flower tea and something bittersweet, like a burnt pastry. Marshall approached the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to take in the busy scene inside.

Sun Hayden was at the stove, flipping pancakes with hungry mumbling, his golden hair catching the morning light. A plate with a charred pancake sat on the counter next to him.

Elysia and Azalea were engaged in a close chat about tea, with Azzie throwing sideward glances Sun Hayden's way to make sure he didn't set anything on fire. 

Lastly, Wyn was quietly setting out plates on the table, his movements graceful and unhurried. The sight of him, all composed and elegant, sent a jolt through Marshall. The sensations of the dream surged back with the intimate touches and the kiss. 

Marshall mentally slapped himself at least five times before walking in with a casual expression.

Azalea was the first to notice him, giving a nod, "Morning!" 

Elysia, who was leaning over Azalea's shoulder, waved distractedly before turning her attention back to the teas. They looked very busy.

Wyn lifted his head, pausing in his task, but before he could say anything, Sun Hayden dropped the spatula and went to drag Marshall to the stove, "Finally! You can take over!" 

Marshall let out a chuckle, his eyes setting on the large bowl of uncooked batter. "Lazy," he teased, picking up the spatula.

Sun Hayden shrugged with no remorse, leaning against the counter leisurely, "I don't like cooking."

"Mhm, but you like eating," Marshall murmured, focusing on the hot pan in front of him.

With practiced ease, he poured some batter into the pan and tilted it to spread the mixture into a round shape.

Sun Hayden leaned over to peer at the sizzling pancake. "How come you're so good at it?"

"It's not that hard," Marshall grinned, still teasing the blond disciple. 

As he flipped the pancake, Sun Hayden commented, "I bet you'd make a good housewife. But I don't know who would want to marry you. Your personality is a handful."

Marshall snorted, cracking up, "You think you're any better?"

Sun Hayden gasped exaggeratedly, puffing out his chest, "For sure! I'm handsome, strong, fun to have around, and—"

His boastful words were interrupted by Azzie's voice, "And a pain in the ass."

"Pfft!"

Sun Hayden sent a glare at Marshall, "Don't laugh, I don't want your spit in my food! And can you hurry up? I'm hungry."

Marshall rolled his eyes, offering him the spatula teasingly, "Do it yourself if you're going to rush me."

"No, no, I'll be quiet," the blond disciple waved his hands in surrender.

As Marshall turned back to the stove, his gaze subtly ran over Wyn, who happened to be looking at him that moment.

The snow deity's clear eyes narrowed slightly under a quirked brow. He held Marshall's gaze for just a moment before turning away.

Perhaps to others it wasn't visible, but Marshall could tell Wyn had noticed the disciple avoiding him. 

A distant sense of guilt gnawed at Marshall. He hoped Wyn wouldn't read too much into his behavior or take it personally. Though, the snow deity was a master of not taking things personally, so it wasn't likely to become awkward.

With a long day ahead of them and a trip to Lou to focus on, Marshall couldn't afford to act like a shy maiden. He told himself to cut it out, focus on the mission, and act as he normally did.