He wakes abruptly from a dream where he's looking for dust bunnies in a mall with Dr. Rockso to an arm landing heavily over his waist. Still not crazy about being touched without warning, he tenses, but relaxes at the familiar long, lanky body pressed against him from behind, the low sleepy mumble against his hair.
Right; Skwisgaar's room. Which means Skwisgaar's bed. Which means he's doing it again; great.
When they first started this arrangement (sex on the nights that neither of them was otherwise engaged – although it was weird, Skwisgaar seemed to be having a harder time than usual finding ladies to bring home), Skwisgaar had made it clear that there were some things he wouldn't abide. Excessive drunkenness (unless he offered the alcohol), stuffed animals in the bed (unless they were just sleeping, and when the hell had thatstarted happening?), and cold hands or feet anywhere on his body (no exceptions) were only a few.
But above all things, he hated cuddling. He would make a grudging exception for Toki, but only until Toki fell asleep, and then he would drop him like a rock and retreat to the solitude of the other side of the bed. If Toki woke up in the middle of the night, under no circumstances was he to wake Skwisgaar by touching him in any way.
(Toki had wasted no time in testing this boundary, waiting patiently until the older man's breathing had evened out before scooting across the bed and kissing his way down Skwisgaar's body, deftly working him with hand and mouth until long fingers tightened in his hair to hold him there, and the man beneath him woke seconds from orgasm.
After that, Skwisgaar had conceded an amendment: Toki could wake him up, and was in fact actively encouraged to do so, as long as he made it worth his while. A hot, wet mouth on his dick, he specified rather unnecessarily, would almost always qualify.)
Toki wasn't about to complain that he wasn't allowed to cling like a burr all night. Frankly, he was just grateful that Skwisgaar was letting him stay at all, instead of getting what he wanted and booting him immediately into the hallway, with or without his clothes, to prove a point that this was in no way romantic.
But it hadn't been long before a pattern had emerged.
Every fourth or fifth night they spent together, Toki would wake up to find himself wrapped in an embrace so uncharacteristic that it was justcreepy. Some nights, Skwisgaar would crowd behind him, like this, and some nights he would flop half on top of him, fine pale hair tickling his cheek.
He still has yet to figure out how to handle this; although he has no particular objection to just going back to sleep like this, he knows that Skwisgaar will bitch about it come morning (well, mid-to-late afternoon), and he has no desire to deal with that.
Normally, he would just squirm his way free and head back to his own room, but he's not in any hurry to leave tonight. It was a long day, and he's tired, and warm, and comfortable, and although traces of the dutiful son that he used to be won't let him take down the pictures of his parents altogether, their soul-piercing eyes have been creeping him out a lot more than usual lately. It's especially unnerving when he's just come back from letting his bandmate bend him over and make him howl.
So he gently lifts Skwisgaar's arm and scoots away. Skwisgaar might wonder when he wakes up how he got over here, but Toki doesn't want to risk waking him immediately by rolling him to the other side of the bed.
Allowing himself the small indulgence of brushing soft blond strands away from the sleeping man's face, he settles comfortably into his pillow and drops quickly back to sleep.
The second time it happens, he's just met back up with Rockso and realized that the mall is actually a cruise ship, and the dust bunnies are starfish in sailor suits, which are hunting them.
He huffs a laugh at the dead weight slung across his hips, long elegant fingers brushing the drawstring of his pyjama pants and dipping lower.
"Hey, you awake?" he whispers, turning carefully beneath Skwisgaar's arm to poke his nose lightly, wondering if this is his idea of a game, wind up little Toki and get another middle-of-the-night blowjob.
But he's familiar enough with Skwisgaar pretending to be asleep (it's not a new game), and Skwisgaar actually asleep, to conclude that this is the latter.
He sighs. Maybe he should have left after the first time, but he's still too comfortable to seriously entertain the idea, and shifting away from the warmth of Skwisgaar's sleeping form leaves him chilled enough that venturing out from the nest of blankets becomes unthinkable.
The third time it happens, after he wriggles free and inches away, he yanks his pillow out from beneath his head and puts up a barricade.
The fourth, he snickers at the sight of his pillow lying on the floor.
The fifth, he starts to get annoyed.
This is getting stupid. Waking up like this is making him really jumpy, and he's longing wistfully for a few uninterrupted hours.
Less gently than before, he shoves Skwisgaar's arm off of him and shifts away – right off the edge of the bed.
With a yelp, he flails to regain his balance, and instinctively grabs onto Skwisgaar, who blinks sleepily.
"Toki?" He yawns. "Thoughts I saids no cuddling."
"Looks where we are," Toki pouts, gesturing to the edge of the bed. "You comes over here and cuddles up to me."
"Whatsever."
Skwisgaar yawns again and wraps an arm around Toki, pulling him close.
"Thoughts you saids no cuddling," Toki echoes sarcastically.
Skwisgaar fixes him with a superior look.
"But you ams awake now, so we cuddles until you falls asleep again. Gods, Toki, sometimes is like you don'ts even listen."