Could you possibly enhance the scene a little bit? It’s meant to stay in the soft intimacy realm but with a little bit more physical touch to show the growth in there love and growing learning of each other like I said it’s meant to stay soft just with so

Sure! Here’s an enhanced version of the scene that maintains the soft intimacy you’re going for while adding a bit more physical touch to illustrate Hyunjin and Chan's deepening connection: --- **The Soft Morning** The first light of dawn pressed through the curtains like liquid gold. It touched the floor, then the couch, then the soft tangle of blankets where two shapes rested close together. Hyunjin stirred first. The world came back slowly — the hush of waves, the faint rustle of curtains, and the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. He shifted slightly, realizing his head was still pillowed against Chan’s chest. The warmth there was steady, rhythmic — grounding. He didn’t move away. He didn’t want to. For a moment, he breathed — deep, slow breaths that tasted faintly of salt and roses. Something in him felt strange, not wrong, just different. His skin felt warmer than usual; the air seemed softer somehow, heavier. The layers of blankets pressed gently against him, but instead of suffocating, they wrapped him in something that felt safe. He exhaled, a quiet sound catching in his throat — not a whimper exactly, but something small and uncertain. Chan stirred at once. “Hyunjin?” His voice was thick with sleep, low and gentle. “I’m okay,” Hyunjin murmured, though his voice trembled slightly. “Just warm.” Chan shifted to look at him, eyes still heavy with drowsy concern. His hand rose to Hyunjin’s back, tracing slow, soothing circles there. “Too warm?” Hyunjin shook his head. “No. It’s not bad. It’s just… different.” Chan’s fingers stilled, then softened again, a steady touch that lingered at the small of Hyunjin’s back. “What kind of different?” Hyunjin hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like my body’s… remembering something. Or maybe learning it for the first time.” His cheeks were pink, his lashes low as if embarrassed by his own honesty. The warmth in him wasn’t frightening — it was gentle, almost alive, pulsing through him in quiet waves. It wasn’t hunger; it was recognition. Chan’s eyes softened with understanding. He knew what this was — not the dangerous kind of heat, not the painful kind, but the softer one Omegas experienced when their bodies began to balance with their hearts. It was instinct saying, you’re safe now. “Hey,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from Hyunjin’s face, allowing his fingers to linger against the flush of his cheek. “You don’t have to fight it.” “I’m not,” Hyunjin whispered. “I just… don’t know what to do with it.” “Then don’t do anything,” Chan said simply. “Just feel it.” Hyunjin’s breath trembled — not from fear, but from the quiet weight of being seen. He pressed closer without meaning to, his fingers curling lightly into the fabric of Chan’s shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The scent there — sea salt and wind — wrapped around him, steady and familiar. His forehead found the side of Chan’s throat, and he inhaled, slow and deep, letting the aroma sink into him. Chan went very still. The feel of Hyunjin’s breath against his neck was soft, reverent — more comfort than anything else. He reached up, fingers intertwining in Hyunjin’s hair, letting his thumb trace idle paths through the loose strands, caressing with the gentleness of an afternoon breeze. “That helps,” Hyunjin whispered, voice muffled against Chan’s warmth. “What does?” “Your scent. It makes it quiet.” Chan smiled faintly, the sound of it more felt than heard. “Then take as much as you need.” He didn’t say because you’re mine or because I’m your Alpha. He said it like an invitation — a promise of safety, of constancy. Hyunjin breathed in again, deeper this time, until his body relaxed fully against him. His hands, small and trembling only a little, came to rest on Chan’s chest, fingers splaying to feel the steady rhythm beneath them. He could almost hear the pulse of Chan's heart, strong and even, harmonizing with his own. For a while, neither of them spoke. The world outside their little cocoon brightened — sunlight climbing higher, gulls crying faintly in the distance, the palace stirring back to life. Chan tilted his head enough to glance down. Hyunjin’s face was half-hidden against his shoulder, the soft fabric of the tunic collar brushing his jaw. His lashes were still damp from sleep, and the faint blush on his cheeks hadn’t faded. “You look peaceful,” Chan murmured, his voice laced with something tender. Hyunjin gave a soft sound that might have been a laugh. “That’s because I am.” “Even with all this warmth?” Hyunjin nodded against him, feeling the strength of Chan's arms wrapped protectively around him. “It doesn’t feel like too much. Just… honest. Like my body’s finally catching up with how I feel inside.” Chan’s chest tightened, something pure and tender threading through the air between them. “Then let it,” he said quietly. “You’ve spent enough of your life holding things in.” Hyunjin hummed in quiet agreement. His breathing evened out again, each inhale brushing Chan’s neck. The flush stayed — faint, radiant — but his body no longer trembled. The warmth settled into something gentle, content, steady. When Chan finally shifted, meaning to get up, Hyunjin’s fingers instinctively tightened around his shirt, a subtle plea woven in his touch. “Stay,” he whispered, voice small yet earnest. Chan froze, a smile breaking softly across his lips as he brushed a tender kiss to the crown of Hyunjin’s head. “Always.” The sea sang softly beyond the balcony, and for a little while longer, the rest of the world could wait, wrapped in the tender embrace of dawn. --- I hope this enhanced version captures the nurturing intimacy and the deeper connection between the characters that you're aiming for!