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In a world where hybrid features weren’t anomalies but the norm, society thrived in diversity. From feline hybrids with sleek tails and sharp eyes to wolves with piercing howls that echoed through the streets, every individual bore traits of their animal ancestry. Hybrids shared their habitats and lives seamlessly, their natural instincts meshing with human culture to create a unique world.
For Wangho, being an Arctic fox hybrid meant he was naturally clever and charming. His snow-white ears peeked through his silky black hair, and his fluffy tail often became the center of attention. He knew how to use his allure, weaving effortlessly through social circles.
Dohyeon, on the other hand, was a Doberman hybrid. Tall and imposing, he carried an air of quiet vigilance. His cropped, angular ears twitched at the faintest sound, and his tail rarely wagged in public. Unlike Wangho, Dohyeon didn’t seek attention—he avoided it. Yet, his guard-dog instincts meant he couldn’t help but keep a close eye on those he cared for, especially Wangho.
In their small shared dorm room, the contrasts between Wangho and Dohyeon were apparent. Wangho’s side was a flurry of organized chaos: neatly hung clothes, a pile of fashionable sneakers, and a vanity cluttered with grooming products. Dohyeon’s side was almost military in its tidiness. His bed was perfectly made, his books were arranged by size, and his shoes were lined up like soldiers awaiting inspection.
That evening, Wangho stood in front of the mirror, brushing a hand through his hair. His ears flicked as he considered his outfit: a black shirt that clung to his lean frame and jeans that accentuated his slim legs. His tail swayed lazily behind him, an indication of his good mood.
Dohyeon, perched on his bed, watched him with growing suspicion. “Where are you going, Wangho-hyung?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the soft music playing from Wangho’s speaker.
“Out,” Wangho replied, not bothering to look away from his reflection.
“Out where?” Dohyeon pressed, his ears standing tall. “Who are you going with? What time will you be back?”
Wangho finally turned, his lips curving into an exasperated smile. “Why are you acting like my mom? I’m going to a club. Just for fun.”
Dohyeon frowned. “A club? At this hour? Alone?”
“Relax, Doberman,” Wangho teased, using the nickname to highlight Dohyeon’s overprotectiveness. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like the idea of you going alone,” Dohyeon muttered, his tail giving an anxious twitch. “What if something happens?”
“Then come with me,” Wangho said, throwing his hands up. “Since you’re so worried, you might as well babysit me.”
Dohyeon hesitated. Clubs weren’t his thing—the noise, the lights, the chaos—it was a sensory nightmare. But the thought of Wangho out there alone made his stomach twist. “Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket. “But only because you’re reckless.”
Wangho smirked, his tail flicking behind him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, puppy.”
The club was alive with pulsing energy. Neon lights danced across the walls, casting ever-changing shadows on the sea of bodies. The bass throbbed in a relentless rhythm, each beat reverberating through the floor like the heartbeat of the room itself. Dohyeon trailed closely behind Wangho, his broad frame cutting an unintentional path through the crowd. His Doberman ears lay pinned flat against his head, a subtle attempt to shield himself from the overwhelming noise. His tail, usually poised and steady, flicked in sharp, restless movements.
Wangho, on the other hand, moved through the chaos with effortless ease. His Arctic fox tail swayed lazily behind him, brushing against the occasional passerby without care. The faint upward tilt of his snow-white ears betrayed his excitement, his gaze bright as it darted across the colorful chaos of the club. For him, this was exhilarating—a space alive with possibility.
Finally, they reached a table tucked near the edge of the dance floor, far enough to avoid the main crush of bodies but close enough to soak in the atmosphere. Wangho dropped into one of the chairs, lounging back with casual elegance, his tail draping over the side and flicking once as he surveyed the scene.
“See? Not so bad,” he said, gesturing at the crowd with a grin. His voice was light, teasing, and barely audible over the pounding music. “Just a little fun.”
Dohyeon didn’t respond immediately. His sharp brown eyes swept the room, scanning the faces and movements with a precision that belied his casual posture. His heightened senses were both a blessing and a curse in a place like this—he caught every flicker of motion, every sudden laugh, and every fleeting scent in the thick air. His untouched drink sat before him, beads of condensation gathering on the glass, forgotten as he focused on his unspoken task: keeping Wangho safe.
“You’re wound so tight,” Wangho teased, his sly grin widening as he nudged Dohyeon with his elbow. “Loosen up a bit, guard dog.”
“I’m fine, hyung.” Dohyeon replied curtly, his tone betraying a slight edge. To appease Wangho, he reached for his glass, taking a small, measured sip. The cool liquid barely registered against the heat simmering under his skin, a result of the oppressive atmosphere and the relentless thrumming of his instincts.
For a while, Wangho seemed content to enjoy the energy of the club, his foot tapping lightly to the beat of the music. But he was nothing if not restless. After a few minutes, he stood, stretching languidly, his fox tail swaying in rhythm with the beat.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” he announced, his tone casual. “You stay here and guard our table.”
“I’ll come with you.” Dohyeon said immediately, already pushing himself up from his chair. His voice was steady, but his ears twitched, hinting at his apprehension.
Wangho turned to face him, one elegant eyebrow arched. “No need.” His hand pressed lightly on Dohyeon’s shoulder, guiding him back down with surprising firmness. “Someone might steal our spot,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I’ll be quick.”
Dohyeon hesitated, his watchful eyes going back and forth between Wangho and the crowded bar. His ears drooped slightly, the expression almost pitiful in its reluctance. Before he could argue further, Wangho leaned in, his hand moving to the back of Dohyeon’s neck in a familiar gesture. He patted it gently, his touch warm and grounding.
“Relax, Dohyeon-ah,” Wangho said softly, his tone carrying an undertone of reassurance. “I won’t be long.”
The simple touch sent a calming wave through Dohyeon, his tension ebbing against his will. He muttered a low, “Fine,” and sank back into his seat, though his eyes stayed trained on Wangho’s retreating figure.
Wangho navigated the packed club with ease, his movements fluid, his fox tail a beacon of his confidence. The bar was crowded with patrons jostling for attention but Wangho found a gap and slipped in as if it had been waiting for him.
Next to him sat a bunny hybrid perched on a stool. He was slight, with floppy ears that twitched nervously and wide eyes that darted between his drink and the bartender. Wangho’s lips curled into a charming smile as he leaned against the counter, his posture open, his presence magnetic.
“Hey there,” Wangho said, his voice low and smooth, audible even over the pounding music. “Mind if I squeeze in?”
The bunny hybrid glanced up, startled, before nodding quickly. “Sure!” he said softly, almost drowned out by the noise. His ears twitched as he stole another glance at Wangho, clearly unsure whether to engage or retreat.
Wangho seized the opportunity. “You’re a cute little bunny.” his tone playful, the words dripping with easy confidence. He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes sparkling as he watched the hybrid’s cheeks flush a deep red.
“Th-thanks,” the bunny stammered, fidgeting with his glass. “I—uh—I don’t come here often.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Wangho replied, his fox ears snapping forward as he leaned in slightly. “You look right at home.”
The bunny blushed harder, his floppy ears twitching wildly as he tried to form a coherent response. Wangho’s tail swayed behind him, the picture of nonchalant charm.
Back at the table, Dohyeon’s sharp hearing picked up every word. It wasn’t hard; his Doberman instincts tuned out the noise of the club, honing in on Wangho’s familiar voice like a magnet. He heard the teasing tone, the laughter, the too-smooth delivery of that particular line: “You’re a cute little bunny.”
Dohyeon’s ears twitched, his tail stiffening as the low rumble in his chest began. It wasn’t intentional—it never was—but the growl built steadily, his instincts refusing to be ignored. He told himself to calm down, that Wangho was just playing around. But when he caught the words “adorable” and “just my type,” it was like a dam broke.
His hands slammed the table as he stood abruptly, the sound reverberating through the air. Conversations faltered, and heads turned, including those of Wangho and the bunny hybrid. Dohyeon’s growl was audible now, a deep, menacing sound that sent a wave of unease through the surrounding clubgoers.
The bunny hybrid froze, his wide eyes darting nervously between Dohyeon and Wangho. Under Dohyeon’s intense gaze, his floppy ears drooped, and he muttered a quick apology before scrambling off his stool and disappearing into the crowd.
The music resumed, and most of the clubgoers returned to their revelry, but the tension between Dohyeon and Wangho was palpable as the latter made his way back to the table.
“Dohyeon-ah,” Wangho said, his voice laced with both resignation and amusement. His brown eyes fixed on the Doberman hybrid with a knowing look. “What the hell was that?”
“You didn’t have to flirt with him, hyung.” Dohyeon’s low growl vibrated between them, his voice edged with a frustration that made his words feel heavier. His ears were pinned flat against his head, but this time the tension wasn’t discomfort—it was irritation, sharp and simmering. His tail, normally a subtle giveaway of his mood, now stood rigid behind him like a warning flag. “I could’ve bought the drinks.”
Wangho raised an eyebrow, his fox ears flicking forward with faint interest. “It’s not like I was going to run off with him,” he replied, his tone calm yet laced with teasing. “I just thought it’d be fun. Free drinks, you know? No harm in a little banter.”
Dohyeon’s gaze darkened, his shoulders tensing further. “You don’t need to flirt with anyone,” he muttered lowly. There was an unspoken weight to his words, a quiet claim that hung in the air between them. “Not when I’m here.”
That seemed to catch Wangho off guard, though his surprise quickly melted into curiosity. He tilted his head, studying Dohyeon with a sly, calculating glint in his eyes. His tail swayed behind him in slow, deliberate arcs, the kind of movement that promised he was about to test a boundary. “Is that jealousy I hear?” Wangho asked, his voice dropping into a lower, silkier register as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them.
Dohyeon’s growl faltered, his carefully maintained resolve cracking under the weight of Wangho’s teasing. The space between them felt suffocating, charged with something electric. His face heated under Wangho’s gaze, and he forced himself to look away, his ears twitching in betrayal. “It’s not jealousy,” he muttered, though the lack of conviction in his tone gave him away entirely.
“I just don’t like seeing you… with people like that.”
Wangho’s foxy smile widened, but it softened at the edges. There was something dangerous in the way he lingered, as if he were toying with the tension that had wrapped itself tightly around Dohyeon. The Doberman hybrid was always so composed, so careful, but here, under Wangho’s scrutiny, he was unraveling—and Wangho knew it.
With a soft sigh, Wangho reached out, his hand hovering briefly before brushing against the base of Dohyeon’s ear. The touch was light, deliberate, and intimate, his fingers scratching gently in a way that made Dohyeon’s breath hitch. “Relax,” Wangho said, his voice quieter now, almost a murmur.
Dohyeon froze at the contact, but the tension in his frame quickly melted. “That’s like the tenth time you’ve told me to relax tonight, Wangho hyung.”
He hated how easily Wangho could disarm him, how a single touch could make the growl in his chest fade into nothingness. His once rigid tail flicked hesitantly before giving him away with a slow, subdued wag.
Wangho chuckled, the sound rich and entirely too pleased with itself. “There you go,” he said, his voice dripping with smugness as he continued his gentle ministrations. His nails scratched just behind Dohyeon’s ears, sending a shiver down the Doberman’s spine. “Well you’re always so tense, you know that? No wonder you act like you’re ready to bite someone’s head off.”
“It’s because of you,” Dohyeon muttered, his voice gruff but quieter now, his eyes fixed on the table as if looking anywhere else would make him crumble completely.
“Oh?” Wangho leaned in closer, his breath warm against Dohyeon’s neck. “And here I thought I was the one keeping you in check.”
Dohyeon’s heart pounded in his chest, a thunderous rhythm that matched the heat rushing to his face. His ears moved under Wangho’s touch, the soothing sensation impossible to resist despite the fire Wangho was stoking inside him. The words he wanted to say were caught in his throat, replaced by the low hum of contentment that betrayed him again.
“See?” Wangho said, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk as he finally pulled his hand away. “You’re much more agreeable when you’re not growling at everyone who so much as looks my way.”
Dohyeon forced himself to meet Wangho’s gaze, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t like people thinking they can just… approach you like that.” His voice carried a weight that felt territorial, an edge that hinted at something deeper.
Wangho’s expression softened slightly, though the amusement never fully left his features. “Dohyeon-ah,” he said, his tone turning quieter but still laced with playful challenge. “I was the one who approached him first. You really don’t trust me to handle myself?”
“It’s not about trust,” Dohyeon replied quickly and firmly this time. His hands curled into fists against his thighs as he held Wangho’s gaze. “It’s about them. They don’t know how to back off.”
Wangho regarded him for a moment, his brown eyes unreadable before a sly smile curled his lips once more. “And you think growling at everyone in a ten-foot radius is the solution?”
“If it works, then yes,” Dohyeon said, his tone unyielding.
Wangho laughed, soft but genuine as he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, though the fondness in his voice contradicted any real annoyance. Reaching out again, he let his fingers brush against Dohyeon’s arm this time, his touch lingering as he leaned in just close enough to feel the tension run through Dohyeon’s body again. “But I guess I like that about you.”
Dohyeon’s breath caught, his pulse racing as Wangho’s words settled between them like a challenge. His possessiveness burned hot under his skin, a low growl threatening to resurface even as Wangho’s fingers calmed the flames he had ignited. Wangho always knew how to balance on that razor-thin edge—how to drive Dohyeon to the brink and pull him back with a single touch.
And as much as Dohyeon hated it, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
Wangho chuckled, patting Dohyeon’s head before pulling back. “Stay here and behave,” he said lightly as he turned toward the bar. Moments later, he returned with two drinks—paid for with Dohyeon’s card.
The night wore on, and the atmosphere of the club shifted subtly. Dohyeon remained firmly stationed at Wangho’s side, his presence solid and immovable. His sharp eyes scanned the room constantly, taking in every movement, every face, every sound. He was a sentinel, and though the club was meant to be a place of relaxation, Dohyeon found no respite in its chaotic energy. His entire focus was on Wangho.
It wasn’t a conscious decision—it never was. Every time someone ventured too close to Wangho, Dohyeon’s instincts flared like a live wire. The muffled growl that rumbled from his chest was nearly inaudible beneath the music but effective nonetheless. People noticed. They glanced at Dohyeon, their expressions shifting from curiosity to caution as they backed away from the radiant fox hybrid beside him.
“Dohyeon,” Wangho said at last. He set his drink down, the condensation leaving a ring on the table as he turned to face his companion. His fox ears twitched, signaling his growing impatience. “You’re scaring people again.”
“I don’t trust them,” Dohyeon muttered, his tail flicking irritably behind him. He didn’t look at Wangho directly, his attention still fixed on the ebb and flow of the crowd. His jaw tightened when a tall wolf hybrid glanced in Wangho’s direction for a beat too long.
Wangho sighed, leaning forward until his fox tail brushed against Dohyeon’s arm. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through Dohyeon, momentarily drawing his focus back to Wangho. “Look,” Wangho said, his voice softer now, coaxing. His expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something more genuine. “I’m not interested in anyone else tonight. We’re here together, okay?”
The words hit Dohyeon harder than they should have, bypassing logic and settling somewhere deep in his chest. His ears flicked again, betraying his momentary lapse in control. The growling subsided, though tension still lingered in his frame.
Wangho noticed, as he always did, and leaned in even closer. His breath was warm against Dohyeon’s ear as he murmured, “If you want to be a good dog for me, you’d stop doing that.”
Dohyeon stiffened, the words cutting through his defenses with surgical precision. He couldn’t help but blush as his ears pressed flat against his head in a futile attempt to hide his reaction. His tail betrayed him as always, giving an involuntary wag that he quickly tried to suppress. “Hyung,” His usually sharp tone was soft and almost whiny, laced with embarrassment.
Wangho’s smirk widened, smug satisfaction written all over his face as he leaned back, sipping from his drink with an air of victory. “That’s better,” he said lightly, his fox tail swaying behind him.
For the first time that night, Dohyeon allowed himself to relax, though his watchfulness never fully waned. His broad shoulders eased, his posture softening as the agitation bled out of him. Across the table, Wangho seemed perfectly at ease, his smile never fading. With a casual flick of his wrist, he reached across and plucked a fry from Dohyeon’s plate, popping it into his mouth without so much as a glance, as though the act were his right and not a request.
Dohyeon didn’t say a word. His gaze stayed locked on Wangho, his eyes tracing the fluid movements of the fox hybrid. There was a pull there—subtle but magnetic. The way Wangho lounged, his tail lazily flicking over the side of his chair, commanded attention. His confidence was intoxicating, a slow-burning allure that made Dohyeon feel almost dizzy.
The club's chaotic energy receded into a muted haze, the pounding music and flashing lights distant distractions compared to Wangho's presence. Dohyeon’s instincts screamed at him to remain alert, but it was impossible to look away. There was something in the way Wangho’s lips quirked upward, a challenge in his gaze that made the Doberman nervous all over again.
Wangho turned his head slightly, catching Dohyeon’s lingering stare. His fox ears twitched, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips. “What?” he drawled, leaning back with deliberate ease.
Dohyeon’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “Nothing.” His voice came out rougher than intended as he tried to ignore the way his pulse quickened under Wangho’s attention.
Wangho’s gaze was sharp but teasing, the flicker of his tail like a beckon. “Liar,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, dipping just enough to make Dohyeon’s skin prickle.
Dohyeon tried to steady himself, focusing on his drink as if the ice in his glass could cool the heat slowly spreading through him. But Wangho wasn’t about to let him off so easily.
The fox leaned forward, his arms resting on the table as he closed the distance between them. His scent was subtle but intoxicating, a mix of something crisp and faintly sweet that made Dohyeon’s senses stir. “You’re staring,” Wangho said, like a soft taunt. His brown eyes gleamed in the dim light, catching every flicker of Dohyeon’s discomfort—and enjoyment.
“You took my food,” Dohyeon said, though the words were weak, an excuse rather than a defense. His ears flicked backward as heat crawled up his neck.
Wangho smirked. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were keeping track,” he teased, the words sliding easily off his tongue. “Maybe I should take something else, then.”
There it was—that edge of flirtation, deliberate and cutting. Dohyeon’s stomach tightened, and he struggled to keep his composure. The line between irritation and desire blurred under Wangho’s gaze, and he hated how effortlessly the fox could unravel him.
“Don’t push it, hyung.” Dohyeon said finally, though even he could hear the strain in his voice.
Wangho chuckled, low and rich, the sound curling in the air between them. “Noted,” he said, but the way his fingers brushed against Dohyeon’s arm as he leaned back spoke volumes of the game he was playing.
Dohyeon let out a slow breath, his grip on the edge of the table tightening. He could feel the tension crackling between them, an unspoken challenge that neither seemed willing to acknowledge outright. And yet, it was there in every glance, every casual touch, every flick of Wangho’s tail that brushed just close enough to tease but never satisfy.
It wasn’t vulnerability that tugged at Dohyeon now. No, it was something darker, something hotter. A need that simmered beneath the surface, just waiting for an excuse to erupt. Wangho had a way of pulling him apart with nothing more than a look, unraveling the tightly coiled restraint Dohyeon tried so hard to maintain.
And the worst part was—he didn’t want him to stop.
Dohyeon didn’t realize how tightly his fists had clenched until his knuckles ached. The heat in his chest simmered just below boiling, and no amount of deep breaths could extinguish it. He wasn’t sure what frustrated him more—Wangho’s relentless teasing or the fact that he kept falling for it, time and time again.
Wangho, as if sensing the storm brewing, cocked his head with a faint smirk. His fox ears twitched, his tail curling behind him, the very picture of someone who knew exactly how to play his cards.
“Why do you keep doing this to me, hyung?” Dohyeon’s voice was low, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
Wangho blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before his expression shifted into something more measured, more dangerous. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his gaze locking onto Dohyeon’s with an intensity that made the Doberman hybrid’s pulse stutter.
“Doing what, exactly?” Wangho asked, his voice soft and inviting, as though daring Dohyeon to say the words out loud.
“You know what I mean.” Dohyeon’s ears flattened against his head, his jaw tight as he forced himself to hold Wangho’s gaze. His voice carried a raw edge, his frustration palpable. “You keep pushing, keep... testing me. Why?”
Wangho’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, his brown eyes gleaming with amusement and something deeper. “Because it’s fun,” he said simply, his tone unrepentant. The lazy motion of his tail was at odds with the sharpness in his gaze. “And because you’re terrible at hiding how much you want me to.”
Dohyeon’s breath caught in his throat. The words hit like a strike to his core and he could no longer avoid the strain in his chest, hot and undeniable.
“You—” he started, but Wangho was already moving.
The fox hybrid slid out of his seat with the grace of a predator closing in on its prey, stepping around the table until he was standing just inches away from Dohyeon. He leaned down, his hand brushing against the taller hybrid’s shoulder, light and fleeting but enough to make Dohyeon feel everything all at once.
“Tell me to stop,” Wangho murmured, honey dripping from his voice, threading through the space between them like a siren’s call. “If you really want me to.”
Dohyeon’s chest tightened, his heart pounding in his ears. The weight of Wangho’s presence, the heat of his breath against his skin, the way his scent wafted around him—it was too much. His restraint, so carefully held, snapped.
Before Dohyeon could stop himself, his hand shot out, gripping Wangho’s wrist in a commanding hold. He pulled him closer, the motion swift and decisive. Their lips collided with a force that was nothing short of desperate, the kiss raw and unrelenting, as though they were both starved for this connection that had lingered on the edge for far too long.
Wangho’s breath hitched in surprise, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into it, his body leaning into the kiss with equal intensity. His hands found purchase on Dohyeon’s shoulders, fingers digging in and pulling him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. Gone was the teasing smirk, replaced by a flicker of something darker, something primal, hungry. His mouth moved against Dohyeon’s with a ferocity that matched the fire burning between them, a kiss that was both claim and surrender.
It wasn’t enough. The need coursing through Dohyeon’s veins was almost too much to bear, the desire to touch, to claim, to ground himself in this moment overwhelming. Dohyeon’s hand slid lower, while the other remained possessively on Peanut’s waist. His fingers curled into the soft fur of Wangho’s tail, giving it a sharp tug. Wangho’s body jerked in surprise, a yelp escaping his lips, a startled sound that sent a thrill of satisfaction rushing through Dohyeon.
“Dohyeon—” Wangho breathed, his voice hoarse, but there was no denying the surge of heat in his brown eyes. The mix of pleasure and pain was evident in his expression, his breath shallow as the sharp tug on his tail stirred something animalistic within him. He leaned into Dohyeon’s chest, trying to regain control, but to no avail.
Dohyeon smirked, the satisfaction of making Wangho lose his composure adding fuel to his own desire. He kept his grip tight on Wangho’s tail, savoring the way the fox hybrid’s body responded to him. The sensation of Wangho squirming under his touch, the way his soft, breathy moans filled the air, only made Dohyeon desperate for more. His hand slowly released Wangho’s tail, but the tension between them remained thick, electrifying the air with every passing second.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were gasping for breath. Their foreheads rested against each other, a beat of silence stretching between them, heavy with the aftermath. Wangho’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, but his brown eyes were darker now, containing something deeper and more intense than the playful spark they usually carried.
“Well,” Wangho said, his voice huskier than before, “that was unexpected.”
Dohyeon let out a shaky breath, his grip on Wangho’s waist loosening slightly. “You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, the admission more a growl than a confession.
Wangho chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against Dohyeon’s jaw as he tilted his head, studying him with a mix of amusement and something softer. “Good to know,” he said, his voice light but his eyes intense.
There was a pause, heavy with implication, before Wangho’s cleared his throat. “So,” he started, tail curling around Dohyeon’s arm in a way that was both teasing and possessive, “do you want to take this back to the dorm, or should we keep putting on a show for everyone here?”
Dohyeon’s ears twitched and he felt himself go red as he realized just how public their moment had been. He didn’t hesitate, though—his hand tightened on Wangho’s waist, voice steady as he said, “Let’s go.”
Wangho smirked, his satisfaction clear as he straightened up, tugging Dohyeon along with him. “Good dog,” he teased, sending another shiver through Dohyeon as they made their way out of the club, leaving the chaos behind.