Carpe Diem
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,096
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,096
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
An Awkward Morning
A/N: It's short. I know that. Sorry. But here it is.
An Awkward Morning
Though his eyelids remained closed, he could feel the sunlight pressing against his skin. Along with something else. He shifted. The something else shifted. Oh. Right. That would be Patrick. He felt a smile rising to the surface as he acknowledged the sleep-induced embrace they were sharing. A squeeze; a squeeze back.
“Good morning,” Patrick said.
“Morning,” Jim managed to reply.
Morning. That time of day when, still dreary from sleep, people prepared for the business of the day in whatever manner they deemed appropriate. Under most normal circumstances, Jim considered himself to be a morning person. He rarely, if ever, slept in. And yet, here he was, lying in bed, unable to will himself up.
“I. . . I need to go,” Jim said, “I have work.”
“C'mon,” Patrick begged, “You can miss work just this once.”
“No,” Jim said, though unconvincingly, “I really need to go.”
Patrick moved so that he was on top of Jim, so that he covered Jim's body with his own, so that their flesh met in a way that was not altogether unpleasant. Patrick growled enticingly at the contact. Jim arched into the touch, though hesitantly, unwillingly. A moan escaped his lips. Patrick ground himself against Jim with ferocity, lust, passion, emotions and feelings too numerous and intense to worry about identifying. His hands, his body traveled lower along Jim's. They reached their destination and began their work of eliciting pleasing sounds from Jim.
All coherent thought left Jim's mind as he felt himself being swallowed. That he was inside Patrick, in a way not entirely dissimilar to how Patrick was inside him the previous night. It took all of his effort to not scream out in ecstasy, in pure bliss at the sensation. Of Patrick's lips, his tongue, of his hands, his fingers. All working toward his pleasure and gratification. His submission. The subversion of his will. He could feel himself coming closer and closer and closer as Patrick continued, and he could no longer restrain his exclamations as he screamed out Patrick's name.
They remained as they were for a moment, neither daring to disturb the scene. Jim shifted.
“I should really get going,” he said as he began to search for the clothing he had discarded the previous night. “Um. . . thank you for letting me stay the night.”
He didn't even hear Patrick's responses or pleas or whatever else as he went out the door and headed for home. His thoughts, his plans, his schedules lay in shambles about him. Confusion permeated his thoughts.
He arrived at his apartment, went through the motions of preparing for the day. No thought necessary for that. He failed to notice the extra hollowness to his movements. That lag in his step, the lingering glance in the mirror. It took him five minutes longer than usual for him to finish. He went off to work, the same as usual. He was late for the first time in his life.
An Awkward Morning
Though his eyelids remained closed, he could feel the sunlight pressing against his skin. Along with something else. He shifted. The something else shifted. Oh. Right. That would be Patrick. He felt a smile rising to the surface as he acknowledged the sleep-induced embrace they were sharing. A squeeze; a squeeze back.
“Good morning,” Patrick said.
“Morning,” Jim managed to reply.
Morning. That time of day when, still dreary from sleep, people prepared for the business of the day in whatever manner they deemed appropriate. Under most normal circumstances, Jim considered himself to be a morning person. He rarely, if ever, slept in. And yet, here he was, lying in bed, unable to will himself up.
“I. . . I need to go,” Jim said, “I have work.”
“C'mon,” Patrick begged, “You can miss work just this once.”
“No,” Jim said, though unconvincingly, “I really need to go.”
Patrick moved so that he was on top of Jim, so that he covered Jim's body with his own, so that their flesh met in a way that was not altogether unpleasant. Patrick growled enticingly at the contact. Jim arched into the touch, though hesitantly, unwillingly. A moan escaped his lips. Patrick ground himself against Jim with ferocity, lust, passion, emotions and feelings too numerous and intense to worry about identifying. His hands, his body traveled lower along Jim's. They reached their destination and began their work of eliciting pleasing sounds from Jim.
All coherent thought left Jim's mind as he felt himself being swallowed. That he was inside Patrick, in a way not entirely dissimilar to how Patrick was inside him the previous night. It took all of his effort to not scream out in ecstasy, in pure bliss at the sensation. Of Patrick's lips, his tongue, of his hands, his fingers. All working toward his pleasure and gratification. His submission. The subversion of his will. He could feel himself coming closer and closer and closer as Patrick continued, and he could no longer restrain his exclamations as he screamed out Patrick's name.
They remained as they were for a moment, neither daring to disturb the scene. Jim shifted.
“I should really get going,” he said as he began to search for the clothing he had discarded the previous night. “Um. . . thank you for letting me stay the night.”
He didn't even hear Patrick's responses or pleas or whatever else as he went out the door and headed for home. His thoughts, his plans, his schedules lay in shambles about him. Confusion permeated his thoughts.
He arrived at his apartment, went through the motions of preparing for the day. No thought necessary for that. He failed to notice the extra hollowness to his movements. That lag in his step, the lingering glance in the mirror. It took him five minutes longer than usual for him to finish. He went off to work, the same as usual. He was late for the first time in his life.