Notes: So here's the newest installment to my drabble series. Reviews would be lovely, and, as always, enjoy:-)
Ain't nothin' like waking up to greet the morning with a huge glob of drool sliding down your bare chest, let me tell you that, man.
Yeah, he's definitely lucky I love him, or else I may've smacked him upside the head for slobbering all over me. He's lucky he'd worn me out last night, or I might've been tempted to shove him from the bed and perhaps, and only because I'm feeling cruel, laugh as he makes contact with those cold floorboards of his.
But of course, I, Derek Venturi, am never cruel.
I never tease him, never tie his wrists to the headboard and watch the game on TV, watching him twist and squirm from the corner of my eye all the while. I never pull back from a heated kiss in the shower, never button him back up when he's all ready to go, never cross the lines when it comes to underneath the table and cold fingers and flushed skin through threadbare jeans on those days we eat at his parents' place.
So I suck up my pride and try to ignore that icky, spitty feel on my skin. He's so fucking lucky I love him.