Fics like A Carpet Made of Lilies-of-the-Valley

There’s an itch somewhere, on the left side of his ribs that isn’t leaving him, no matter how often he turns and adjusts his pillows. The yellow lamp light feels too bright, hurts his eyes. The scent of the pillows is all wrong, with the leftover traces of the laundry detergent adding an artificial layer Felix doesn’t enjoy. When Minho comes into his room, red mouth smiling and face so dewy, Felix yearns to touch and to be close. And while he usually lies still, tonight his restless fingers grip Minho’s t-shirt before he can pull away. He whispers, “Minho-hyung,” and watches the way specks of light dance in Minho’s dark eyes, the way his long lashes flutter when he blinks and hums in question. Felix licks his lips and feels nervous but calm, with his heart thudding loud but even, clearly aware of something he hasn’t yet grasped himself. All he knows is that it feels right to ask, “Will you sleep in my bed tonight?” Felix isn't sure if he could point to only one reason why things started changing, only that one day Minho had started looking at him differently. Perhaps it's the scent of his desk neighbour lingering on him. Or maybe his upcoming heat. Or perhaps that change was inevitable.

Fics like A Carpet Made of Lilies-of-the-Valley

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