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Oh, I actually sleep on abednow. Shocker, I know. It’s like the eighth world wonder and one of those mysterious breaks in history. I’m sure my previous useless therapists would have a field day with the causes.
I’m a simple man. I smell Bran and feel his hard muscles molded to mine, and I’m a goner. It’s blasphemy to expect me to sleep separate from him when he’s lying there like a beautiful prince.
He might attempt to push me away or pretend that I’m annoying and crushing him, but here’s the thing. Whenever I pull away from him in my sleep, I wake up to find his head on my chest and his arm wrapped around my middle. Or he’ll press his chest to my back, throw his arm on my waist, and bury his face in my hair.
He’s so fucking cute, I always want to swallow him whole, and I do,often.
I usually wake him up with my lips around his cock or my cock nudging inside him. He picked up on it and started trying to wake up before me just so he can suck me off first thing in the morning.
It’s not a competition I’m complaining about. In fact, I love how he gets that smug look on his face while giving me the sloppiest of sloppy blowjobs.
Over the past few weeks, Bran has become a bit more comfortable touching me and I don’t always have to initiate sex anymore.
If he’s in the mood, he definitely makes it known either by attacking me as soon as I walk inside the apartment or with his constant texts that mimic my clingy nature.
He can also be surprisingly possessive—though not as unhinged as I am since I literally threaten to break the arm of anyone who touches him. The other day, I ran into Simon at one of the coffee shops and he started being touchy as usual before I pushed him away.
Turns out, Bran saw it and sent me this gem of a text.
You better remember who the fuck you belong to, Nikolai.
Did I print that text and frame it? Possibly.
I fucking love that he’s been more forward lately. Not to the point of talking to me in public—God forbid anyone knows about us. But he’s getting there.
I don’t mind.Much. I love that I’m his secret. I love that he’s aloof and in complete control when in public, but he falls apart on my tongue, fingers, and cock in private.
I love that he steals glances at me when everyone is looking, then whispers how much he needs me to fuck the daylights out of him when it’s only the two of us.
He’s mine and that’s all that matters.
I'm the only one who knows he’s a noisy motherfucker during sex, and that’s all I care about. Still, I make sure to decorate his skin with hickeys so others know he’s owned. I take my time turning them deep purple until he’s whining and add new ones every night. The earful he gives me afterward is worth it.
There’ll be a day when he’ll come out. I know it. Ifeelit in his eyes when we’re in public. I see it in his body language when he angles himself in my direction as if he wants to walk to me, hug me, and kiss me. He stops himself every time, but that’s looking more painful for him lately.
He’ll break one day and I’ll be there to pick him up with open arms and an open mouth.
I’m wearing him down and he’s totally falling for me.
Okay, I’m being delusional again. While he doesn’t actuallyloveme, he cares.
Sometimes more than necessary.
So here’s the thing, Bran despises the fights and makes that known every time as he patches me up and puts ointment on the bruises.
He also hates how chaotically beautiful I am—though he probably wouldn’t call it that. He can’t stop nagging about all the shit I leave lying around or the dishes in the bathroom—what? I had a snack while soaking in the Jacuzzi—or whenever I shake my wet head. I only do that so he’ll dry it for me. Some would argue I also fight so he’ll be so adorably worried about me.
Most importantly, he replies to my ridiculous texts that go the line of:
Me
Did you know there are like so MANY Greek Gods?
Bran
Is that so?
Yeah. How am I supposed to keep up? Why are there so many?
