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Greg lies awake in their king-sized hotel room bed, next to a sleeping Alex. It must be something like four in the morning, but Greg can’t be fucked to open his eyes to check. The sounds of the city outside never seem to stop, no matter what time of day (or night) it is. New York is simply always awake. He sighs, trying his best to be fully aware of his chest rising and falling as he breathes in and out, something that he learned can help a person feel more relaxed and fall asleep. Not like meditating has ever done him any good when it comes to his insomnia. But he gives it a go anyway; he’s got nothing else to do. His breathing slows, deep, long, steady breaths that expand his lungs and then melt into the air above him. He feels himself falling into the edges of sleep, thank goodness – they have another long day tomorrow – until something brings him back. A sound, almost too quiet to hear, except the sound is accompanied by a slight movement from Alex’s side of the bed.
Alex’s elbow nudges Greg’s arm just slightly before it breaks contact. Then another nudge, and broken contact. It’s light, a touch that’s barely there, and Greg thinks that if he was asleep he probably wouldn’t even notice it. But the pattern repeats as Alex oh-so-lightly keeps bumping his elbow into Greg’s arm. And the sound?
Alex’s ragged breathing.
His gasps of breath are the stark opposite to Greg’s purposefully deep intakes and exhalations of air. Barely there whispers of almost-words stutter past Alex’s lips, and Greg can only imagine what Alex looks like right now – eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying his hardest not to make any noise and disturb Greg, muscles tight and wound as he wanks himself off…
Oh god, and now that Greg really thinks about it, now that he realizes he’s pretending to be asleep next to Alex, who is masturbating right next to him… he begins to wonder what Alex is thinking about, to be doing this in the middle of the night. He could have gotten out of bed and done this in the bathroom, but he didn’t… How curious.
“Alex.” Greg’s voice is soft, but low. So very low. Almost the one he uses to purposely sound sexy but not quite.
“Fuck!” Alex nearly jumps out of his skin, his whole body jolting, shaking the bed.
Greg’s eyes fly open on instinct and he snaps his head to look at Alex, who’s sitting up and looking back at him with black, glassy eyes. Panic is scribbled all over his face, his hair a complete mess. Greg watches as Alex’s hips buck up under the duvet, and Alex strains to keep a whimper in his throat – it escapes anyway in a huff of air. His chest heaves as he stares at Greg, his muscles shaking. Greg notices that Alex’s right hand is still under the covers.
“Having fun, are we?” Greg asks, trying to keep the smirk off his face.
“Oh my god,” Alex breathes, and Greg can practically see how red the tips of his ears are, even though it’s nearly fully dark in the room.
“Oh my god, Greg, I’m so s–”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Greg says, waving him off. He pauses for a beat, then asks, “What were you thinking about?”
Alex makes a weird sort of sound, half strangled choke and half muted whimper.
“Tell me, Alex…” Greg says, in a low, sing-song voice.
“Th-thinking about you… k-kissing me,” Alex stammers in a whisper.
“Mmm. Is that so?” Greg growls, and quick as a flash, reaches out his arm to grab Alex by the front of his nightshirt, hauling him toward Greg for a kiss.
Alex lands on top of him, overbalanced by the unexpectedness of the pull, and their lips meet perfectly. He moans into Greg’s mouth, and Greg smiles into the sound. He pushes Alex off, gently, and sighs deeply.
“It’s too bad you’ve already finished,” Greg says, glancing at where Alex’s hand is hidden under the duvet. “We could have had some real fun.”
Alex gapes at him, mouth opening and closing, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Go clean yourself up, then come back here and cuddle,” Greg chuckles. “We’ve a long day tomorrow, and if you’re a very good boy, tomorrow evening I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly.”
It’s a risky thing to say, given that all they’ve done is kissed, but it’s four in the fucking morning and Greg is tired and he doesn’t really care anymore.
It pays off though – Alex squeaks, which gets Greg really laughing, and then Alex slides out of the bed with one hand still down his pants and waddles over to the bathroom to get himself cleaned up. He comes back to bed a minute later, shimmying up close to Greg, who wraps his arms around Alex and pulls him close.
Greg’s never fallen asleep faster in his life.
