Page 4 of Always Him

And that is how we fall asleep.

* * *

I wake up pressed against him, almost on top of him. I never really move far, and he doesn’t seem to mind. His hand is splayed across my lower back, the tips of his fingers tucked into the waistband of my boxers. My hand is resting right over his heart.

I can feel it thumping against my palm and my lips turn up at the corners.

This routine of falling asleep in each other’s arms happened organically. It was just the natural progression of our close relationship.

My family is what you might call “overly affectionate”. My parents are big huggers and cuddlers. So, Finn and I grew up together, hugging and holding hands. I remember sleepovers with my head in his lap, just talking or playing video games for hours, his hands in my hair, his fingers grazing my cheek or the shell of my ear. Finn’s dad isn’t affectionate like mine though, so it took a while to drag him over to the dark side. But once he saw how awesome it was, he just opened himself up to me.

After the accident, however, that’s when things evolved.

He was with me every step of the way through my recovery, holding me, comforting me.

I needed Finn in those moments more than I needed air.

When I finally moved into my apartment near my college campus eight months after the accident—a move made to offer me more independence—Finn would drive out and visit me on the weekends.

In the living area of my place is a small pull-out sofa but the mattress is lumpy and uncomfortable and every night that he slipped out of my bed and moved onto it, my heart withered. So, after a few weekends of guilt, I just invited him to stay in my bed, all night.

And fuck, I’m glad I did.

We had started on opposite sides of the mattress but always woke up in the middle of the night or the morning plastered against each other. I wasn’t surprised this happened. I’d always been snuggly with Finn, and after the accident, with him holding me constantly, touching me, soothing me, I just grew used to it.

My body craved it.

So after the first few nights, I stopped pretending like I didn’t want it, like I didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms.

From there on out, we just started the night wrapped around each other. We stopped pretending like we didn’t need it.

We have fully accepted it now.

I feel my cock hard against his thigh and I press it against him to relieve some of the ache.

Yes, I admit this is a little odd, but it happens, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The first time we’d woken up with our cocks pressed together, we laughed about it and then joked about it over coffee. Well, I joked about it, mostly. Finn just had that crease in-between his eyebrows until I made him crack a smile.

It’s not a big deal, Finn. It means nothing. We’re both straight. Just friends with dicks and morning wood. It doesn’t have to be weird.

“Mmm, morning,” Finn says, his hand flexing against my back, his body turning slightly to pull me right up onto him.

I go willingly, pressing my cheek against his chest, my ear right over the thumping of his heart.

His hands slide up and down my back and I just sigh against him.

I am dreading the end of winter break when he has to leave me again. I want him here with me all the time. I’m hoping once he finishes college next semester, he’ll move in with me. I want to be roommates with him, want him near me all the time.

As it is, his clothes are in my closet and dresser drawers, and his toiletries are in the bathroom. He’s all but moved in. I’m going to be so sad when he packs up his stuff and leaves.

I can’t think about it too hard or my chest pinches painfully.

“What do you want to do today?” he grunts from beneath me, not realizing where my mind has gone.

What do I want to do? Stay in bed with him all day and snooze. Just use his body like a La-Z-Boy recliner.

“Coffee,” I mutter and then lean up a little and stare down at him.

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