As Darkness Falls
- Lethargic -
You hold him.
You hold him because he's warm and he's safe and he's there.
You know every inch of his back - his painfully-sharp shoulder blades, the one vertebra that pokes out awkwardly (because he has you rub his back and gingerly push it back into alignment every so often.)
You know his smell- sweet, always sweet. His thick hair holds in the smell of his cheap shampoo that he washes methodically with, three times per shower and one shower per day. You know the safe, familiar feel of his spindly, warm body pressed up against yours. And you know the tiny tendrils of electricity that jump between your stomachs when he leans his head against your shoulder and drapes his arms around your waist and sighs.
His embrace is reluctant, and when he does pull close and rest his fingers in the small of your back, it's timid and lethargic.
"Chuck," you rasp. In retrospect, you feel stupid for breaking the silence. But what's done is done, and you are never one for regrets.
"Mmmn." He snuggles against you now - a bump of chest to chest; the stuffy, sensory-overloady feeling of both of you breathing in the same puffs of air. His lips part and he exhales wearily against your neck, and it registers dully that somewhere far away, your pants feel uncomfortably tight.
"Chuckles, are you okay?"
You hate the way your voice sounds in the darkness - needy. Uncertain.
"Yeah," he softly sleepmumbles. "I'm fine."
"Ya sure?" You rub your hand down his back, not caring that it's crossing that fine line between affectionate and sensual. His stomach pushes against yours and he grunts. You don't know if his frame moved instinctively because there's a heady warmth blossoming between the two of you that he's trying to get more of or because he's annoyed and wants to get away from your fingers.
"M'fine, Mikey. Get some sleep."
You do want to get some sleep. Oh, how you do. It's waltzing around your skull in the shadows, its tantalizing, fuzzy edges seeping in between your thoughts. But Chuck is here, and Chuck is more important.
"I want to know," you hear yourself croak. There's a pointed silence and then a curt sigh. He wriggles and gets himself closer before tightening his grip on you until you can feel his ribs. His mop of blonde hair nuzzles against your cheek and his lips drag wetly along the sensitive skin under your jawline. You barely notice the gasp that springs to your throat.
"I'm okay, Mike."
A pause. Another little nuzzle and a softness - a comfort that melts from him through you until the heady combination of lust and euphoria and sleep come dangerously close to drawing you in.
"I'm happy."
You release a breath of relief as the mouth against your neck spasms with a momentary smile. You rub his back again and despite the heat coming off his skin, he has goosebumps. He half-hums and half-moans into your jaw and snuggles closer, pressed to you from collarbone to hips. He tangles his legs with yours and squeezes you tightly.
You are reflecting on how good he smells when you drift off to sleep.