No, it’s all the time.
All the fucking time.
And our closeness now is killing me.
My breath catches, and maybe his does too. I think, maybe, he would be up for something more. But I don’t want to be the brute who hits on him when he has few clothes on and he has nowhere to sleep but right next to me.
His parents are in the next room. He can’t even crawl under the covers of his own bed if he feels he needs to.
So I swallow back my urge to tell himmaybe we couldandhave you thought about...I don’t bring up that a nice way to fall asleep is self-care and that I’m happy to self-care him any time he wants, hand or mouth, his choice.
Instead, I lie still beside him, as our breaths continue to intermingle, and his body finally relaxes, and until his breaths even and I know without doubt that he is sleeping.
This is also nice, I think. Being here with him is nice.
I close my eyes, confident I’m going to fall asleep.
Then I hear his voice. “Finn.”
My eyes jolt open. Does he need me? Why is he calling for me, when whispers worked perfectly fine before?
But when he says my name again, and it comes out like a moan, I keep quiet.
Because something about the way Noah is squirming, something about how my name comes out low and gravely, makes me think he’s dreaming.
And not anormal dream.
My heart glows, and I close my eyes tightly, even though every instinct I have tells me to wrap Noah inmy arms right now and wake him up with a kiss.
NOAH
I wake up with a start to the sound of my parents murmuring in the kitchen. I should join them. They’re driving back after breakfast.
Finn sleeps beside me, his breath even. His arm is thrown around me, and I’m burrowed into his chest once again. His long legs press against mine, filling me with warmth, and I absolutely don’t want to leave.
His long lashes flutter, like he’s dreaming, and I pull myself away from him reluctantly. I want to watch him. I want to admire the way his cheeks have turned pink after the warmth of the night, and I want to look at the exact shape and shade of his lips.
But that wouldn’t be being a good guest, so I unravel myself as delicately as I can. I slide the sheet down from us, so I can best leave, even though that means I’ll be confronted with all of Finn’s awesome abs and perfect pecs and brilliant biceps, and I don’t think I can take them so early in the morning.
Finn still sleeps soundly, and I wonder how long it took him to fall asleep last night.
And then I see it.
Something that makes my heart skitter.
Something slick on Finn’s belly. Something slick and whitish.
Something that I used to see sometimes when I was a teenager.
Maybe it’s not me. I glance down at Finn’s dick. But even though it’s larger and has that pleasant plumpness that comes in the morning, his boxer briefs are firmly on, and there’s no wetness coming from it.
And I’m wet...down there.
I had a wet dream, and at some point in the night, I thrust into Finn’s belly or something because now he is wet.
Oh, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
