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This is an entirely new side of Corwin; the one who’s relaxed and comfortable in his skin; the one who smiles easily and makes jokes. It makes me unreasonably happy to know that I’m the only person who’s ever seen it—the only one to lay in his bed and touch him. The wordsmy Corwinflash into my brain, and although I know I have no actual claim to him, I like the way it sounds more than I probably should. I look at our hands, layered together on his stomach.Mine.
“We should probably get some sleep.” I tell him, when I catch him trying to hold back a yawn. We’ve been lying here long enough that our dicks have calmed down and probably don’t need to be taken care of right at this moment, so I reluctantly pull my hand away from him and move over a little to give him space.
When the lights click off, the room is fully dark except for a small light coming from the bathroom. Not enough illumination to see him, but it’s a comfort knowing he’s there by the sound of his breathing alone. A different sort of intimacy than what we had been doing before, but perhaps a more meaningful one; he trusts me enough to let me sleep here, and that’s not nothing.
???
I wake up feeling like a million bucks, and if I was a different sort of person, I might break out in song.This is what it feels like to have it all, I think, listening to the slow breathing next to me. It’s still pretty dark in the room, early as it is, but enough light is peeking through the window for me to see Corwin.
He’s curled up on his side in the fetal position, back toward me. With the blankets pulled up over his shoulders, the only part of him that’s visible is the back of his neck and a head of brown hair. I wonder if he’s cold or if that’s just the way he sleeps, all tucked in like that. I want to spend more nights here and find out.
I want to scooch over and wrap an arm around him, press my chest against his back and bury my nose in his hair. And if it was any other lover, that’s exactly what I’d do. But this is Corwin, who reacts to even the most innocuous gestures of affection with mistrust and panic. I can imagine exactly how alarming it would be for him, to wake up and feel disoriented by the presence of another body where there hasn’t been one before.
I’m just settling in to wait for him to wake up when he makes a small, unthinking sound of contentment. I watch his back as he shifts, slowly coming awake. When he rolls over to face me his eyes light up, heaviness gone as his eyelids widen.
“You’re here.” He says, voice gravelly with sleep. There are indents in his cheek where it was pressed against the pillow.
“I’m here.” And it comes out sounding exactly how I mean it:I’m here, and I’ll keep being here until you tell me to leave.Because this is too much emotion to deal with before the sun has even risen, I try to inject some levity. “I was promised breakfast, after all.”
He smiles, tucking one hand beneath the pillow to prop his head up a bit, and curling his knees up like he’s settling in to go back to sleep. “Full continental breakfast, you have my word.”
He says it so solemnly, it really does sound like he’s making a vow. Since he didn’t wake up and immediately bolt from the bed, I feel like it’s safe for me to touch him; reaching out, I run my thumb over his jaw, enjoying the scratch of stubble across the pad of my finger. Then, because why the hell not, I trail my fingers through the hair above his ear like I’m tucking the hair behind it, even though it’s not long enough.
He wiggles closer, pulling the blanket back up around his shoulder. I bring my hand back between us, pausing for a moment before sliding an arm over his waist. He’s closer now than he was when we woke up, and he inches forward even more when I put my arm around him. He feels good, sleep-warmed and relaxed. His hand curls loosely around my other arm, fingers brushing my bare chest.
“Did you sleep alright?” He asks.
“I slept great.” His thumb is moving back and forth on my forearm, and his face is so close to mine it’s distracting. After last night I’m not sure how I’ll be able to function around him without remembering how it felt to lie on top of him. “You?”
“Best sleep in ages. Not going to be able to sleep without you now.” There is a lilt to his voice to let me know he’s joking, but he also doesn’t quite have his mask in place and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes.
He’s so contradictory: confident on the ice and in every other aspect of his life, but shy enough to feel insecure about saying something romantic to the person with whom he spent the night. Sleep has erased the bravado from last night, and the doubts have crept back in.
“Corwin.”
“Yeah?”
“I live in one of those pre-furnished apartments downtown; it’s essentially just a hotel room, which doesn’t usually bother me because I’m used to places like that. But it bothers me now, because every time I come over here and have to go home after, all I can think about is how much better I feel when I’m with you.”
His thumb is no longer moving on my arm, and his grip has tightened incrementally as I speak, eyes locked on mine.
“All that’s to say, if you ask me to stay, I can pretty much guarantee the answer will be yes. Even if all we do is sleep.” I add that last part because I know he’s still hung up on the sex thing.
The side of his lip is slightly compressed, like he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I feel better when you’re here, too.”
“This relationship stuff is so easy.” I say and it makes him laugh.
“Do you want to shower? I can lend you clothes and stuff.” This time, he sounds surer when he continues. “Next time, you could pack a bag; you’d probably be more comfortable with your own stuff.”
“I wouldn’t mind a shower, but I’d rather stay here for now if we’re taking a vote.”
He’s been curled up this whole time, knees level with my hips. Now, though, he unravels slowly, and stretches his legs out. When he moves closer, I help him along, tightening my arm across his hip and pulling him in. “That’s my vote, too.” He says, and we’re close enough that I can feel the barest hint of his breath on my face.
Pulling his hand away, he mimics me and wraps his arm around my back. The bare skin of his arm feels searing across my back; I don’t think I’ve ever been more hyperaware of another person than I am with Corwin.
“We have a workout today, but you can do it here if you want. With me.”
He’s tracing the tip of his pointer finger over the muscles in my upper back, following the grooves like it’s a map. “Sounds good. Away game tomorrow.”
