It's that best part of sleeping: where you're not quite awake, and not quite asleep. That's where I find myself with my face laying at the foot of his bed, with one of his feet not six inches from me. I inhale sharply and smell the odor; it's a cross between sweet and bitter. A strange mix. But one that gets my cock stirring.
He doesn't even smell bad. He smells like a god ought to smell. And he sleeps perfect and quiet; no snores, no tosses or turns. Nothing. I sit up, letting his bed sheets fall from my shoulders, and lay back down staring at his closed eyes.
He's sleeping on his side, with legs curled close to him, keeping him warm. For a while I just lay there, matching my breathing with his. I throw a leg over top of his; my hardening cock slides up against his softy. When I exhale quietly on his shoulder, tiny goosebumps form, and he doesn't even stir. Just rolls his head a bit and moans. More silence.
The light of dawn creeping through the shades in his bedroom give me my first clue of where I actually am. I don't even remember coming upstairs last night.
Dawn. Huh. Mom and Dad must be worried...
I purse my lips and kiss his forehead lightly. Take a little extra effort to run my fingers over his nipples and trace the outline of his pec muscles. And I doze again. Wake up sometime later to the sound of and sight of Tyler eating. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the news over an omelet. Still naked--the crack of his ass depressing the mattress is evidence enough.
I sit up from the bed and lean over one of his shoulders.
"Morning."
He gives me a quick `n dirty peck on the cheek. "Likewise. How'd you sleep?"
"Fine, for being stuck next to a snoring wacko all night."
"I don't snore," he says flatly, and scratches his ribs with a free hand.
"I know." I wrap an arm around his shoulder. "It was a joke. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Do you want anything to eat?"
"Nah, I'm fine."
He nods once and goes back to his omelet and the news: a housefire down on 3rd Avenue; no one hurt, but a total loss even so.
I tune out the news and focus on Tyler instead. Stick my tongue out and lick his cheek gently, the texture of stubble rubbing against the tip of my tongue. Tyler puts the plate and its omelet on a TV tray next to his bed, and stands. What little fat is on his ass jiggles slightly as he walks to the closet on the far side of the room.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"Getting dressed. It's a school-day, John." He cranes his head back to me and smiles. Then he bends over and roots through a pile of clothes on the floor. Again...that tight pink hole of his is screaming at me. Fuck me, it says. I fondle my cock and stand. Go over to the door and pick my clothes out of a similar pile. By the time I'm pulling my boxers on, Tyler's already dressed and back on the bed, finishing his omelet. He's wearing loose denims, flip-flops and a purple Oxford, untucked, with the top two buttons left undone. The casual gawker would only see his collarbone angling towards tanned muscles and a puca-shell necklace.
"Flip-flops?" I ask, pulling on denims and one of his cross-country tees.
"Supposed to be nice today." He picks up the remote and turns off the TV. Stands and wraps his arms around my waist. Leans in close and runs his tongue over my lips. "Thank you for last night."
"Sure," I say quietly. "I don't even remember coming upstairs."
"Don't worry," he says and slides his hands down the back of my pants. His fingers work towards my hole as he speaks. "We didn't do anything after you sucked me off. I woke up an hour or so later and carried you upstairs."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You're a nice package, John. I mean that." I look in his eyes--those too-cute baby blues--and I believe him.
"So are you." And I meet his kiss, wrapping his tongue around his.
When it's over and we're on our way downstairs to his car, I speak again: "So..."
"What?"
"Any chance for a blowjob en route?"
Tyler smiles. That reassuring and infinitely hot smile. And pats my shoulder as we get to his car.
"We'll see."