Sasquatch to the Moon

19: Little Spoon

I stare down at him, running my fingers across the nape of his neck. Then I decide that maybe he's a heavy sleeper and I can wonder out loud. "Did you get what you wanted for Christmas this year? I feel like I should've thought ahead and gotten you something." 

He doesn't respond, thank god, but he does shift a tiny bit, squeezing me a slight bit tighter. 

So I set my head back down on the pillow, staring up at my ceiling, running my nails gently across his skin, then up into his hair again, feeling it filter through my fingers. 

Then I get curious about that little spot on me that made me weak in the knees. His favorite spot. The little spot on my waist.

So I let one arm drop and I lift his long sleeve shirt just a little, feeling that spot. He was right. It's so soft. Then I'm just rubbing that spot mindlessly. God it's so soft. I set my head in his hair and breathe him in. He smells a little like pine and a lot like vanilla. Then I'm just breathing because he's soft and smells good. And he's gay. And he likes me back.

Then I'm getting a little too touchy with him. My hand is all the way up his hoodie and I'm touching all the ridges on his back. Don't blame me: Håkon's hot.

Then I'm staring down his back at that hockey ass and I just stare at it because I know if I put a hand on it he'll wake up.

Oh but I want to. Oh but I want to.

"Håkon, if I put a hand on your ass right now would you kill me?"

"Maybe." he grumbles.

"Oh shit, you're awake."

He hums a little response. "You rubbing my hip was nice." He breathes out and shifts a little more.

"So can I?"

"Not right now." He sighs, then he's kissing my neck real slow. Just mouthing me. Getting his lips everywhere and anywhere he pleases. Slowly. He's sleepy.

"Can I stay over?" He whispers against my throat, then sets his lips back over my adam's apple. 

"Yeah, I kind of expected you to." I mumble over my building pressure.

"Great, you're the best pillow I've ever had," he kisses under my chin and then my lips and we french kiss briefly before he breaks off, flopping back flat, head on my chest. "I'm exhausted."

"I, yeah, that makes sense," I lean over and shut off the TV. "Come on, I'll get you some pajamas."

"Not yet." He mumbles, nuzzling his nose into the side of my neck. "I like this." 

"I know you do." I snuggle him back, kissing his hair. "But it'll be more comfortable in a bed, not a couch." 

He frowns. "This is perfect." 

I feel a little dampness where his eyelashes are brushing my neck. "Are you crying?" I mumble, stroking his hair again. 

"No."

"Mhmm," I kiss just above his ear. "When was the last time you were held like this?" 

He just shakes his head, not responding. Something tells me it's been a long, long, time. 

I smile a little. "Are you a cuddler?" 

He doesn't respond again, instead tightening his arms around me. 

"You are aren't you." I can't help but blush. "C'mon, get up, I'll let you be the little spoon if you come to bed with me." 

I feel him frown against the side of my neck. "Hmph." He knows I can't move with him on top of me.