Tag: sleeping

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wolfgangreborn:

Falling into those brown eyes

“Hi,” you say as you caress his shoulder.
“Hi,” he smiles back.
“Worn out?”
He nods but looks happy. “I’m exhausted.”
“Well your tour bus doesn’t leave until 9 pm tonight, so you can sleep all day if you want.”
“But…I don’t wanna. I want to spend it with you.”
“Aww, babe.” You lean over to kiss his forehead. “You’re very sweet, but you would also be useless. Get some rest. I’ll wake you up for lunch.”
“You promish?”
“Yes.”
“Thatsh good.” He lowers himself back to the pillow, and in seconds he’s snoring.

I snort and shake my head. Dead to the world.

We had broken up before he went on tour. Not that we really wanted to break up, but that he was going on tour for six weeks and his band was getting a lot of attention. That’s a long time to be apart, especially with cute boys in every city waiting with a click of an app. We always prided ourselves on being a realistic, casual couple, but both of us were trying to out-stoic the other in being chill about the break up. Neither wanted of us wanted it, and we took our pain in silence. Time heals all wounds right?

I tried to ignore that halfway through said tour it came through Austin, and that they had the next day off in Austin, and I tried not to show any interest in the show. I wasn’t expecting him to show up at my door that evening of the show – when he was supposed to be at sound-check, that asshole – with red eyes, telling me he missed me, he was lonely, he was in love with me, and he also, did he say he missed me?
I mean, what guy doesn’t want to hear that? Swept me right off my feet. I may have cried when we made up in the hallway. He guest listed me for the show, and we left as soon as his set was finished. I was still bewildered at the fact I got laid last night and woke up with him in my bed. I watched him sleep. Yep, he was very much here… in my bed. Mr. I’m Slowly Getting Famous just wanted to sleep in my bed. Good Christ. I felt my chest getting tight.

The next three weeks of this tour were going to be painful for an entirely new reason. It was going to suck waiting for him to get home so we could pick up from where we left off.

But I still had at least half a day with him today. I decided to pack a lunch so we could take it to the park together. It would be a date. It would be romantic. It would be just us.

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Captions are fictional.

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I walk into the living room with my coffee. “Oh! There you are. Your
bedroom was empty. Is that the stray lad you brought in last night?”
James nods. I can tell he’s smiling behind his hands.
“You’ve taken quite a fancy to him have you?”
James nods.
“Did you have a bit of a frolic this morning?”
James nods again.
“Well
done. You got in quite late last night too.” You eyes rove over the two
of them. Where are their clothes? And is that a sheet? “James,
honey…are you both twisted up in the sheet?”
He nods.
“Are you stuck because he’s asleep?”
He begins to giggle.
“Oh James, you poor dear. Stuck on top of a naked hunk.”
“I have to pee,” he whispers.
My turn to laugh. “Alright, let’s get you off of him without waking him.” I could tell by the pleased look on his face that he didn’t really want to get up.

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Captions are fictional.

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holdmelikeiwanttorunaway:

Everyone wants to have someones arms wrapped around them when they fall asleep at night. 

You hear the cries first. It pierces your rest like a sharp piece of glass. With great difficulty, you pull yourself away from the warm embrace of sleep. The baby is still crying. Your lover stirs under you, but you speak up first. “No, I’ll go.”
“But itsh my turn,” he slurs, mostly sleep still.
“Go back to sleep,” I say firmly. He worked a long shift today.
He doesn’t need another second to reconsider this and immediately dozes back off. You sigh and extract yourself from your comfort spot – latched onto his back like a koala. You sigh again as you get out of bed and your skin prickles in the cool air. You find your way into a bathrobe and stumble down the hallway like a zombie.

The baby is red faced and flailing. You smile when he stops crying to look at you with big blue eyes. He’s really cute, even when he’s waking you up in the middle of the night. Those cheeks! Those dimples! The tiny fingers! You transport the infant to the changing table and with practiced motions, whisk away the soiled diaper, clean the infant, and fix a new diaper in place. During the day you use cloth, but at night, you use disposable ones. Thank god, you think, yet again congratulating yourself on that idea.

The baby is still fussy, so you amble to the kitchen with the kid latched on your shoulder. With your eyes mostly closed, you wash your hands. Then, you prepare a bottle, test it on your wrist, and let the child nurse pressed up against your bare chest. You nod off but snap to attention when you remember what you’re doing. A long yawn follows. The baby burps in a timely fashion and is put back to bed; despite your fatigue you tuck him in carefully and make sure he is comfortable. You linger over his crib until he falls asleep.

It’s only then are you free to return to the paradise that is your own warm bed, complete with the thermal body of your beloved Sam. You slip out of the bathrobe and dive in, hurrying to be attached to him again.

Sam stirs. “Hey, e’rythin ok?”
“Yeah, the Goober’s fine.”
He smiles and chuffs through his nose. “I love that you’re such a good father to our baby. Its sexy,” he says. Or you think he says, as it all comes out as one long, slurred word.
You pause a moment, wondering if you heard that correctly. He said “our”. He hasn’t said that before now. It was always “his” baby, or when Sam was speaking, “my” baby. Technically, it wasn’t even his.

For a while, you two and Sam had an open relationship after years of waffling between on and off monogamy. Sam made the mistake of having one drunken night with a ex, only to wake up sober and discover she’d gotten six times more crazier since he’d left.

Not long after, Sam found out she was pregnant. They were gonna make it work. She had gotten her fix of attention during the nine months of pregnancy, but was over the whole motherhood thing an hour after a rather uncomfortable delivery. When she found out Sam was bisexual, and his lover had been a man, she said the baby boy was “tainted” and planned to leave town. Since Sam had used a condom, he had gotten a paternity test. The baby wasn’t his. Sam went over to her house to confront her the night she was leaving and they had gotten in a huge fight. She was going to be leaving town with some deadbeat that had blond hair suspiciously like the baby boy. Sam took a hair he found on the sofa, the baby, and left. The DNA in the hair matched the infant’s profile.

Sam knew he was not legally obligated to care for the infant, but to do so was a great miscarriage of justice. Turning that sweet, perfect baby over to a drug-dipping deadbeat with Aryan facial tattoos and no GED was a textbook recipe for trauma. Sam kept the baby as his own, and it brought his relationship with you to a new place. A closer, more intimate place where you were now a family instead of just a couple.

Then Sam had proposed. You said yes. The wedding was in a few weeks, and you could barely wait.

You snuggle up to your beau, infatuated with him and lovesick. The magnitude of passion you feel toward him and that small helpless baby in the other room overwhelms you sometimes. You’re tired, and part of you just wants to cry with bliss. Sam presses back against you.

He keeps pressing. You’re surprised he’s still awake. Your groin begins to stir as his round little butt keeps brushing against your silk boxers, right over where your cock has nested for the night. You grunt.
“Sam…” you say.
“Mnnng…” he replies, still rubbing. You reach over and down and feel for his cock. It’s hard and jutting straight forward. Not hard to miss. Sam makes a content noise when you play with it.

You’re not quite sure if you are dreaming all of this, but you have to be, because there’s no way you can stay awake. Yet, you find yourself reaching backwards for the nightstand drawer. In the dark, you fumble, and find a condom and lube. You tear it open with your teeth and roll it on; you open the lube one handed and drip it everywhere. You slick up your own cock, then toss the closed lube bottle on the floor.

“Hold still,” you whisper. Sam stills. You put a leg over his hips and position the blunt tip of our cock against him. In one motion, you’re in him, and Sam moans. He hasn’t gotten laid properly in two weeks. You’re in him, and he’s magnificent. Sam undulates against you and you make love to him gently. You kiss his shoulder and reach again for his impressive cock. The pace accelerates from zero to sixty in three seconds. You work your hips quickly; you both tense, and then it’s over. Sam cums into your hand; you fill the condom. It takes a tremendous effort to move again. You wipe your hand on a tissue and rip off the condom. You just leave it open in the trashcan, there’s no energy left in you to tie it.

Sam is asleep again, smiling now. You can tell, his breathing has changed. A feeling of comfort settles over you, of paternal belonging and satisfaction in your roll as a man of the house. You’ve taken care of your offspring. You’ve pleased your man. All is good in your house and domain.

The night is now yours. You cling to Sam, and fall back asleep.

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Text is fictional.

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“I can’t sleep,” he said, messing with his toes. “I dozed off but I had this bad dream and now I can’t get back to sleep.”
I exhaled through my nose and sit down on the edge of the bed. I awoke due to his cries, which echoed through-out the entire house.
“I’m really sorry to disappoint you,” he added in that soft, delicate tone of his, sweet as treacle and fragile as the skin on top of cocoa.
“It’s quite alright, Caleb. I expected there to be a period of adjustment.”
He looked down and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t quite believe me. After a moment, he spoke again. “Everything is different here. The bed is higher, the night sounds are strange, the sheets smell different.” He sniffed. “I miss home.”
“Oh sweetheart,” I murmured. “Are you homesick?”
“Yes,” he replied, big crocodile tears sliding down his pale cheeks. “I want to sleep in my old room again. I’m so far from home!”
“Caleb…” I scooted across the bed and opened my arms. He crawled to me, sitting half in my lap, legs all over the bed. I enfolded him in my arms as he cries into my bathrobe. I rocked him, soothing him.

“I know it’s scary. But you have to be brave.”
“I don’t want to be brave!”
“I’m sure in the next couple of days you will learn a lot about my house, you’ll adjust, and discover Yellow Ridge is not a terrible place to live and I’m not a terrible person to live with.”
He sniffled again. “I’m not going to be a good husband to anyone.”
“Oh that’s not true, that’s not true. Shhh… relax. Breathe now.”

I continued to rock him, feeling more that I was rocking a little boy than the young man who was betrothed to me. It was, on paper, a good match. My family blood line is one of the upper seven or so distinct names, a historical name of wide influence in society and business. Caleb was from a lesser family line. Heterosexual marriage between blood lines is not encouraged amongst our people due to blood mixing. The only way for a family to gain a higher standing is to be lucky enough to have a gay son or daughter to offer to an upper family for their own homosexual son or daughter to marry. From the perspective of Caleb’s parents, he was a golden child. They were eager to abide by even the most conservative traditions. They had insisted Caleb be sent here to be my houseboy until the wedding, when he turned 18.

Even calling it a wedding was a broad term – it was more of a political ceremony. I had heard about wedded couples that each kept their own lovers; I however was a traditionalist, and hoped my bride and I would be true to each-other and monogamous.

I began to suspect that Caleb wasn’t going to be ready at 18 though. His parents had mollycoddled him and babied him. Freshly 16, he was still very much a sheltered child. I glanced down at the bundle in my arms. It was difficult to imagine that in two years, I was expected to consummate that marriage. Our five year difference suddenly felt wide as a chasm. His parents had likely taught him nothing about sex. I wondered if Caleb ever played with himself at all before his chastity device was affixed. He was still probably adjusting to that too. I pondered if it would be better to have it removed and let him explore.

More than anything, I felt pity for my bride. Thrust into a strange world, into strange arms, at a time when his body and its hormones were transforming in the most awkward ways. I also felt a bit of anger and disgust that the temple elders had clearly not sensed Caleb was a vulnerable creature – if I had been a man of lesser morals, I could have violated Caleb terribly. I made a note to call the Temple Counsel in the morning to file a complaint.

I would not send him back though. It would not benefit Caleb to go back into the womb at his age. As he got older, this behavior would be more difficult to correct. He was going to be a man soon. There were going to be expectations of him. I hoped keeping house and receiving home schooled lessons would keep his mind occupied. I kissed the top of his head and tried to remove Caleb but he’d worked his fingers into my bathrobe.

“Are you going to send me back?” he whispered.
I wondered if the boy could read minds. “No,” I said firmly, “You need to fledge from the nest. Every duckling and songbird falls a little when learning to fly. You’ll get used to things. You’ll find happiness in your work. Once you turn old enough, I will teach you the most wondrous pleasure your body is capable of. Are you feeling pain in your device?”
I felt the heat of his cheeks through my clothes. “No,” he says. “It’s snug, but it doesn’t hurt.”
“Ok, let me know if it does.”
He nodded.
“Will you try to sleep now?”
Caleb eyed the bed warily. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
I thought. “Just this time, duckling”
He seemed satisfied with that. I cleaned his face, made him blow his nose, and have a sip of water. I then tucked him in lovingly and then spooned up next to him, me on top of the covers. Caleb had exhausted himself and was asleep within minutes. I lingered a moment, watching his eyes move under his eyelids, marveling at how long his lashes were. His face still possessed some of its babyfat, especially in the cheeks. He was going to be stunning all grown up.

I just had to make sure he would grow up. I was sure once he got a taste of his new found freedom he would thrive. Tomorrow would be a most interesting day.
“Good night, duckling,” I murmured, as I turned off the light and went back to my room.

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Text is fictional. This is model Graeme Metz photographed by Cecilie Harris for Boys by Girls magazine issue 6, titled “The Truth About Boys”. The T-Shirt by American Apparel and Underwear by Calvin Klein. This caption is not a projection or assumption of Graeme’s personality or sexuality.

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The moment I collapse into bed at night, I never want to get up again. Taking care of my Master as his houseboy and personal assistant is exhausting, and at that point in the evening I am always relieved that my duties for the day are over. Six days a week, I get up before him, I go to bed after him, and for those nine hours between the two I am content for about five minutes before I get lonely. He is my lover and my best friend; my boss and my owner. He nourishes me, fulfills me, drains me. Without him, I forget how to be a human. I get so caught up in his own happiness I often forgot how to feel my own.

But…I like it that way. As I curl up into my pillow, I bask in the satisfaction that he told me he loves me before passing out. I recall the compliments on the wine I selected for the equally complimented steak, his note on the shine to his boots, and his praise for getting rid of a particularly meddlesome client. I chide myself over not making enough carrots for dinner, and for not getting to the post office today, but there is tomorrow and endless days after where I can right all the wrongs from today.

I no longer care that I am in chastity as there is no time for myself – my time is his time. When he pushes aside hours or even minutes in his busy day to focus on draining me, filling me, bending me over and fucking my brains out while I drip on the floor, I am reminded exactly why I do this job – because I worship that perfect, rigid cock. The money is good, yeah but oh the sex! the special privilege of sucking his erection in the morning! The rare bliss of an orgasm! He gives that gift to no one but me. His balls and their cum are mine, and he knows not to let anyone else have them but me. I groan and adjust the position of my hips. I just had his cock between my lips but now I want it again, and my cock feels tight in its cage. My thighs will be sticky from leaks in the morning. 

Sometime I wish I could sleep snuggled up next to him and press my leaking cage against his butt, but my Master insists that I have some time alone. I think it’s kind of silly. All I do is think about him anyway. Eventually, my thoughts drift to tomorrow’s breakfast menu and my mind just gives up from fatigue. I’m slipping away now, my body made of lead….just so fucking’ tired. Sleep will be here any second so that I may rest and heal, but seriously – if he came in right at this moment to fuck me I would not protest one bit.

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Text is fictional.

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Julian was in charge of  “pup camp” at the bdsm convention which was a room where Masters could leave their over-excited pups so they could have some peace and quiet. Their pups loved the chance to play and socialize with other pups, to truly thrive in their headspace. The last night of the convention, the pups could all sleep over in Julian’s hotel suite if they liked. About a dozen volunteered.

Just after midnight that evening, there was a big, nasty Midwest thunderstorm with vibrant lighting and booming thunder…and Julian woke up at 1 am in a very crowded bed to lots of whimpers. Some of the pups were just nervous and needed comfort, but oh the boys from California just could not handle their weather!

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Text is fictional.

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Corbin dusted his hands off as he jogged up the stairs. He was already up and had gone through his morning routine. He fetched the paper, made sure Fabian’s shoes were polished, and laid out his clothes over a chair. It was 7:30, time to wake him up. He gently placed a hand on his Master’s shoulder. “Good Morning, Sir, it’s time to get up,” he said gently.
“Mmphhh,” Fabian protested, rolling onto his side. “Sleepy.”
“Sir, it’s 7:32. You need to get up,” Corbin said gently.

They worked together like a well oiled machine; Fabian would wash up and do a brief session of yoga while Corbin made breakfast. Sometimes he swapped the yoga for more intimate activities. While Fabian would eat breakfast, Corbin would pack his lunch. After a good-bye kiss, his Master would go off to work; Corbin would eat the leftovers then begin his daily chores and errands around college classes. However, this was all hinged around them both getting up at the right time.

Master Fabian groaned, “I’m so tired from last night. I’m going to skip yoga this morning.”
This was understandable. They’d been uplate trying out the new sling. Master Fabian had a lot of fun connecting Corbin’s nipples to the tip of his locked cock and listening to him moan with every thrust. Corbin had slept like a rock that night, totally depleted of energy. It seemed the session drained his Master too.

At the declaration that he was skipping yoga, Corbin waited for Fabian to throw back the blankets and expose his proud erection for care, but Fabian just snuggled deeper into the sheets. He rolled over onto his other side and held up the comforter on the empty side of the bed. “You, get in here. I want to hold you.”
“But – but Sir, breakfast and-”
“Now.” Even half asleep he could use that bossy tone that gave Corbin goosebumps.
Corbin glanced at the clock. Well they had about fifteen minutes. He walked around to the side of the bed and crawled in. The second he settled, strong arms wrapped around his upper body. A content sigh came from behind Corbin as he felt a scratchy jaw nuzzling his shoulder. “You’re so warm…”
“Do you want me to do anything to please you Sir?”
“Just stay still boy.”
Corbin did. He was pleased to be in his Master’s bed and folded in his strong arms. The mattress was comfy – softer than Corbin’s own futon in the walk in closet. The pillows carried Fabian’s scent, and the comforter trapped all the warmth until they were both snuggled up like in a cocoon. Although he’d felt awake enough a minute ago, Corbin’s eyelid began to droop and he yawned. He could hear his Master’s slow shallow breathing behind him. Corbin began to worry he was going to fall asleep. He considered that they should probably set an alarm or something but –

He was roused when a phone rang. He sat up, blinking blearily, listening to Fabian answer and talk on the phone. When Corbin glanced at the clock, his heart sank – it was 10:34. Judging by the conversation, it was Fabien’s work place, wondering why their boss hadn’t show up today. Corbin could hear the conversation. They’d both overslept, and terribly at that. Not only had none of the morning chores gotten done, his Master was late to work. Corbin’s mind went from deep pleasure to instant fear of punishment.

When Fabian hung up the phone, he looked at Corbin who was all wide eyed and terrified.
“Sir I’m sorry – I should have set the al-
"Boy.”
“Yes sir…?” he asked meekly.
Fabian stretched. “When I told you to get into bed, I was aware of the potential consequences. What I wanted was to snuggle with you for a bit, work be damned. I feel so incredibly well rested. I really needed those extra hours especially after last night.”
Corbin blushed a little. “You wanted to snuggle with me Sir?”
“Mnn. It was nice to have some time with my houseboy. You’re very thermal.”
“T..thank you Sir. I enjoyed it too. Shall I go prepare breakfast?”

Master Fabian smiled and tossed off the comforter exposing his throbbing erection. “Nope. I’m going to be even later today. Now get the lube.”

Corbin’s eyes lit up. Getting to sleep in his Master’s bed and getting to receive his Master’s cock? It wasn’t even his birthday today. “Yes sir!”

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Text is fictional.

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I love you. I need you. I can’t sleep without you. You’re my rock, my anchor. Thank you for accepting me for who I am; and for understanding how much I needed an alpha male in my life to guide me and instruct me on how to be a better man. I will never be dominant or in charge, but that’s fine by me, since all I seek is your validation and affection and a spot in your bed at night.

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Text is fictional.

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The first time we had sex, it was after 13 long, slow months of dating. Julian wanted to go further, but was petrified stiff. No pun intended. He wanted to set a date to lose his virginity. At his request, I loosened him up with craft beer and Jack Daniels, and also at his request, put a little GHB in his drink. Just a little. He also took poppers. To say Julian relaxed instantly was an understatement – he was on me, crazy horny, and dragging me to bed.

We got naked and he wanted me to take him – was begging me to take him, to fuck him hard – but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. He wasn’t sober, and even though he’d consented, I wanted our first time together be real. He wasn’t going to remember this. He was never going to know how much of it was the drugs and alcohol and how much was love and passion. I was never going to know either.

So, I edged him and capped it off with an intense handjob. Julian exploded all over my chest, then promptly passed out.

The next morning, he was gone before I woke up. I couldn’t get a hold of him until 9 pm that night. I had texted him stating if he didn’t respond to me right goddamn now I was filing a missing persons report. Julian replied and asked to meet me at a coffee shop.

He picked an isolated table in the back. Before I could get a word out, he  begins to blather about how gross and disgusting he felt. He was headachey; he couldn’t remember most of the previous night and was regretting having ruined his first time. I kept trying to interrupt him but he just kept talking, so eventually I just put my hand over his mouth and said firmly. “If you just shut up a moment, I’d inform you that we didn’t have sex.”
“….What?” Julian’s face furrows. “I don’t understand – I remember being naked, cumming…”
“You were on aphrodisiacs, horned out of your mind. I gave you a handjob because you said you’d only not like them if you were dead. I had to get you off the edge. You passed out like, right after.”
He blushes. “But we didn’t…fuck? You didn’t penetrate me with your cock?”
“No. For the exact reasons you described above. Handjobs were always something you were fine with, but penetrative sex was another matter. Just because you consented before the booze and GHB doesn’t mean you still do after you’ve taken them. I felt like such a creep. I felt like I was going to rape you, the way you just were grinding on me like crazy. You wanted my dick, but I didn’t know if you really did, you know? I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to "do the deed”, I wanted to make love with you. You were fucking hot, but it was not what I wanted.“
Julian sits in silence, blinking like an owl at me. "But… how can I be sure?”
“No open condom wrappers. No sore ass. You’ve never taken my cock before, I would have stretched you first. You would have remembered that.”

“No condom wrappers…” He fights the indignancy he’d been building all day, then releases it all in an audible sigh. He collapses back into his chair, exhausted. “oh my god. I am so relieved. Just…Jesus fucking Christ, I was coming here to break up with you!”
“I know,” I say softly.
“God you are amazing. You’re the best boyfriend ever. I am so grateful for your thoughtfulness.”
I give him a warm smile. “It’s because of you. You’re the one I really want to keep and cherish. I’m… I’m really hoping we can try this again? I want to be your first, if you still want me…”

He sits up. “Yes! Yes I do. When it’s right.”
“When it’s right.” I put my hand on the table and Julian put his hand over mind. I told him I love him and he blushed again, before telling me he loves me too.

A week later, he was over for dinner-and-a-movie when a heavy storm knocked out the power. We had dessert and coffee in bed, surrounded by candles, and one thing lead to another… The next morning, the Earth was verdant from being washed clean and Julian woke up a man.

We’re still together. To this day, I still wrap an arm around him in bed. I’m not letting him run off on me again while I’m sleeping. I love when he spoons up against me and wiggles his butt into my crotch, accepting that he’s stuck and might as well get comfy before I wake up horny and come after his hot self.
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Text is fictional. Source unknown.