It's stifling. Not hot, not hot at all, but there's not enough air in the room. Maybe the weight of what has happened today is finally settling in on me, because I honestly never thought this is how this morning would be resolved. Is it resolved? I mean, Danny didn't seem to worried about this. He trusts me enough to fall asleep beside me and I think he might've even been planning to seduce me, considering he was supplied and we hadn't even settled anything yet. Which means he must want this, too.

I managed to work up enough energy earlier to get us both cleaned up, wipe off all the sticky semen from our stomachs, and when I flopped back into the bed, Danny rolled onto his stomach, flinging an arm across my stomach, his hand coming to rest possessively on my hip. He didn't even take off his glasses, so I had to take them off him when he turned his head, and set them on the night table.

This whole situation is new to me and it's a little unnerving. The cop part of my brain is telling me (yelling at me, really) to run, leave the bed, go get some air, something, anything, just get out of the bed. Look, there's another bed, that part says, you can go sleep there, away from Danny, give yourself space to think. I know this is dangerous. There's always that chance of getting caught and then other people making our lives hell, or making work uncomfortable if this doesn't all work out. There's too much risk, get out while you can. What if this gets too serious? Are you ready for something that big? Am I? What if we go too fast?

But then there's the other part of my brain that tell me to wait, not to move. I'll admit right now that I'm afraid, terrified about what's going to happen. But this is Danny. The same Danny that plays hoops with me and the boys, the same Danny that makes bad jokes, the same Danny that's my friend no matter what. And this won't change that. That's one of the thing I can always count on Danny for. He's always there. It'll be ok and if we do this right, no one will find out. I'm not going to run-- I can trust him. He won't push me too far, won't take this too fast, even though I initiated all this. And that's what keeps me there beside him.

This is not the time to be freaking out. I've wanted Danny for as long as I've known him, thought he was the hottest thing I've laid eyes on since I've first seen him. And I told him earlier that I didn't want this to be a one time thing. And I don't. I like everything about him. The way he talks, the way he laughs, the way he licks his lips when he get nervous (which also leads me to believe he planned to do this no matter what happened-- he didn't like his lips once all day), just... everything. No, I'm not going to freak out. I want this more than anything else. I don't have any regrets.

The sex had been great. Stunningly great, easily the best sex I've ever had. Now, I'm good. I think.

I turn my head and look at Danny. His blonde hair is all mussed up, sticking up on end in the back and matted to his forehead in the front. His breath comes in soft and slow draws, tickling my shoulder, signifying just how deep of sleep he's in. His lips are still a little swollen from earlier and there's a little bit of drool on the sheet under his head. All things considered, he looks pretty hot. It's not gross, it's not unappealing, it's just Danny and it's ok.

Danny shifts closer in his sleep, his head coming to rest on my shoulder and my heart skips a beat. I gently stroke Danny's arm, starting at the his elbow and working my way down to his wrist. I entwine my fingers with his from where they are splayed on my hip and I smile gently.

Yeah, I'm definitely good.