Awake pt ii. (Read Awake pt i.)
481 words, Adult Content, LGBT themes. Please leave a comment if you like what you read. 😊
Impatience (Awake pt ii)
Simon woke tangled in the sheets, blanket sliding half onto the floor, and the appeal of going back to sleep paled in comparison to the temptation of the sounds coming from the next room. From the cries that had woken him up he could tell his roommate was going down on this night’s date — all hers, punctuated by an occasional masculine murmur or low chuckle — and he lay on his back with eyes half closed, drowsily imagining that mouth sliding down his body.
On principle he kept his hands out of the way, lacing his fingers together behind his head in repose. It was self preservation. The moment he made any move to speed things along he would cross a threshold into a place where willpower was no longer enough to keep his desire in check. If he crossed it, how could he ever face his roommate again without wanting to touch, to explore, to guide that sensual mouth wherever he wanted? Besides, knowing that he shouldn’t was part of the thrill. The part of him that possessively thought mine was full of shit, but even thinking it sent that bittersweet jolt of pleasure through him. And anyway, when the woman’s cries came together in a crescendo of orgasm, he forgot to be jealous. What made his hands twitch and fingers curl in anticipation was knowing that his roommate would be rock hard and eager now.
How long had it been since this had become all he could think of at night? Too long. His will broke, and as he let his hands fly to his own eager erection a wry smile curled his mouth for an instant before the jolt of stimulation filled his mind and body with sparks. A sharp male cry of pleasure came through the wall at just the right moment to spur him on. He rolled onto his stomach and imagined the warm, rumpled blankets were a body beneath him, his to rub and grind and rut against with abandon. The climax bore down on him quickly and he let it sweep him away.
Outside, snow began to drift slowly down from the dark winter sky.
He dreams about losing time. The kids have the dog they’d wanted, and he doesn’t know when or how that happened. Day in and day out his recurring dream-wife gets on his case about the dog, about the kids’ grades, about how much time he spends at work. At work, his supervisors are concerned that he keeps falling asleep at his desk. It all blurs together in starts and stops, and the prescription that’s supposed to help regulate his sleep cycle isn’t making a bit of difference.
The bottle falls out of his pocket in his car on the way to work a few days later and, in the fickle way of dreams, he forgets about them entirely.