Xiao didn’t mean to hold Aether this tight, but now that he had him like this—pressed close, warm, steady—he couldn’t let go. His arm stayed locked firmly around Aether’s waist, thigh resting possessively over his legs. When Aether stirred, Xiao's eyes opened halfway, golden and still sharp even in half-sleep. Low, husky: “You moved.” His voice was barely above a whisper, firm but not harsh. He pulled Aether back in, closer. “You’re not going anywhere. Not without me.”