Taking Steps: Date by Appointment Part 10
Jun. 18th, 2014 08:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charisstomaTitle: Taking Steps: Date by Appointment Part 10
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 795
Hoping this helps or amuses a certain person with a migraine.
Follows from here Part 9
There was a warm body behind him cuddling and the most glorious thing happening down below. He was dreaming and it was a nice dream that would involve needing to change the sheets.
“Shhh. Let it happen.”
“Wha…”
“It’s known as breakfast,” was whispered in his ear that was followed by a giggle, “breakfast in bed and the very best way to wake up.”
There was a buzzing going on in his head that occasionally sounded like words. He shook his head and tried to push into the suckling mouth but found he couldn’t move. So this is what sleeping paralysis is like, was what his sleep addled mind supplied, no pressure to perform just lie here and accept one of the best blowjobs in dreaming memory. He really hoped that the dream didn’t end, like so many did before getting to the conclusion when Mrs. Gonzalez’s son slammed the door upstairs and yelling that it wasn’t his turn to walk the fucking dog. Everett didn’t need an alarm clock, he had Hilario.
There was a snort from near his left thigh, ‘yeah, just like the best dreams ending before you want them too,’ he thought.
“No sweetling, you’re thinking too hard. Where’d we leave the bottle? Ah yes.”
Fingers, slippery fingers, rubbed over his opening, the muscles there waking up with a flutter and giving only a token truculence before relaxing to let the intruders in. The invasion was a friendly one after all, a very friendly one.
The second time he woke up was to weak sunlight pricking at his eyelids and a vague sense of alarm. There was something he was supposed to do. Everett stumbled out of the warm bed which grumbled before Stephen ejected himself from the sheets.
“Drapes.”
‘Oh. OOoh.’ Everett watched as Stephen went to the right side of the bank of windows drawing the heavy fabric across to the center.
“You want to get the other side, he’s not a friendly person if he gets waken by the sunlight.” Stephen wasn’t either.
“Why don’t you have the kind that you just pull the cord?” Everett whispered applying himself to pulling the other side to the center where Stephen adjusted them so there wasn't any leakage of sunlight in.
“He’s Old World, they don’t do it like that or they didn’t. I don’t know.” Stephen scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. “His Nips says that draperies don’t get hung up, like if the slide catches, if they’re on rings. So I’m running around drawing the drapes at ungodly hours in the morning.” He grinned at Everett, “But not alone anymore I hope. What do you think of our domestic bliss?”
“He makes a good alarm clock. That was him, wasn’t it?”
“Yep. I’ve told him if we’d just draw the damned drapes shut before going to bed but he likes to look at the stars.”
“So no skylight then?”
An evil grin took over Stephen’s face, “Suggest it to him. No, you’d better not. He’d be hurt thinking you didn’t like him. Did you like him… last night? Us, together?”
“Enough not to want a skylight. It's an unusual way to wake up, that first time. That wasn’t a dream, was it?” as he followed Stephen out of the bedroom where they started repeating the closing of the draperies in the other rooms.
“Let me have my first coffee before we get into heavy conversation and I’ll answer all your questions and no, that wasn't a dream.”
“A guy could get very used to waking up like that.” Everett went into a full body stretch.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
Stephen was standing on the other side of the breakfast bar looking at Everett and Everett remembered he wasn’t wearing anything, blushed, then gave a mental shrug and grinned. “Coffee?”
“What? Oh.” Stephen turned and opened a cabinet taking down filters and a large distinctive red container of Folgers. “You like coffee, I take it.”
“Got any hot cocoa mix to go with it?”
There was a pause in the water sprayer filling the back of the coffee maker, the running water instead flowing into the brushed stainless steel sink. Stephen turned accusingly, “You’re a heathen?” and broke the effect with a grin. “Top shelf,” he nodded to the cabinet where he unearthed the coffee container. “Think there’s enough left over from last winter for breakfast. You really get to know a person first thing in the morning.” He retrieved two mugs from another cabinet barely waiting for the carafe to fill before pouring out some into his, a look of bliss descending across his face as he took his first sip.
A comfortable feeling settled in Everett’s chest. This is what home felt like. He wanted it. Badly.
Continues here Part 11
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 795
Hoping this helps or amuses a certain person with a migraine.
Follows from here Part 9
There was a warm body behind him cuddling and the most glorious thing happening down below. He was dreaming and it was a nice dream that would involve needing to change the sheets.
“Shhh. Let it happen.”
“Wha…”
“It’s known as breakfast,” was whispered in his ear that was followed by a giggle, “breakfast in bed and the very best way to wake up.”
There was a buzzing going on in his head that occasionally sounded like words. He shook his head and tried to push into the suckling mouth but found he couldn’t move. So this is what sleeping paralysis is like, was what his sleep addled mind supplied, no pressure to perform just lie here and accept one of the best blowjobs in dreaming memory. He really hoped that the dream didn’t end, like so many did before getting to the conclusion when Mrs. Gonzalez’s son slammed the door upstairs and yelling that it wasn’t his turn to walk the fucking dog. Everett didn’t need an alarm clock, he had Hilario.
There was a snort from near his left thigh, ‘yeah, just like the best dreams ending before you want them too,’ he thought.
“No sweetling, you’re thinking too hard. Where’d we leave the bottle? Ah yes.”
Fingers, slippery fingers, rubbed over his opening, the muscles there waking up with a flutter and giving only a token truculence before relaxing to let the intruders in. The invasion was a friendly one after all, a very friendly one.
The second time he woke up was to weak sunlight pricking at his eyelids and a vague sense of alarm. There was something he was supposed to do. Everett stumbled out of the warm bed which grumbled before Stephen ejected himself from the sheets.
“Drapes.”
‘Oh. OOoh.’ Everett watched as Stephen went to the right side of the bank of windows drawing the heavy fabric across to the center.
“You want to get the other side, he’s not a friendly person if he gets waken by the sunlight.” Stephen wasn’t either.
“Why don’t you have the kind that you just pull the cord?” Everett whispered applying himself to pulling the other side to the center where Stephen adjusted them so there wasn't any leakage of sunlight in.
“He’s Old World, they don’t do it like that or they didn’t. I don’t know.” Stephen scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. “His Nips says that draperies don’t get hung up, like if the slide catches, if they’re on rings. So I’m running around drawing the drapes at ungodly hours in the morning.” He grinned at Everett, “But not alone anymore I hope. What do you think of our domestic bliss?”
“He makes a good alarm clock. That was him, wasn’t it?”
“Yep. I’ve told him if we’d just draw the damned drapes shut before going to bed but he likes to look at the stars.”
“So no skylight then?”
An evil grin took over Stephen’s face, “Suggest it to him. No, you’d better not. He’d be hurt thinking you didn’t like him. Did you like him… last night? Us, together?”
“Enough not to want a skylight. It's an unusual way to wake up, that first time. That wasn’t a dream, was it?” as he followed Stephen out of the bedroom where they started repeating the closing of the draperies in the other rooms.
“Let me have my first coffee before we get into heavy conversation and I’ll answer all your questions and no, that wasn't a dream.”
“A guy could get very used to waking up like that.” Everett went into a full body stretch.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
Stephen was standing on the other side of the breakfast bar looking at Everett and Everett remembered he wasn’t wearing anything, blushed, then gave a mental shrug and grinned. “Coffee?”
“What? Oh.” Stephen turned and opened a cabinet taking down filters and a large distinctive red container of Folgers. “You like coffee, I take it.”
“Got any hot cocoa mix to go with it?”
There was a pause in the water sprayer filling the back of the coffee maker, the running water instead flowing into the brushed stainless steel sink. Stephen turned accusingly, “You’re a heathen?” and broke the effect with a grin. “Top shelf,” he nodded to the cabinet where he unearthed the coffee container. “Think there’s enough left over from last winter for breakfast. You really get to know a person first thing in the morning.” He retrieved two mugs from another cabinet barely waiting for the carafe to fill before pouring out some into his, a look of bliss descending across his face as he took his first sip.
A comfortable feeling settled in Everett’s chest. This is what home felt like. He wanted it. Badly.
Continues here Part 11
