Tag: sleeping

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Greg had been listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat for the last forty minutes. It was so soothing to be so comfortable, so warm and snug on a chilly spring night. Yet, he couldn’t fall asleep. Normally he was out like a light – wasn’t there something he’d forgotten to do? It nagged at him. Jesse was asleep too half under him, and Greg had been listening to the soft sounds of him breathing the entire time. He liked having quiet moments like this to appreciate his lover and to just snuggle – his previous boyfriend didn’t like to snuggle – but Greg wanted to join Jesse in sleep now. What was the deal?

He ran through his night routine – turn off the light in Jesse’s beloved aquarium downstairs, lock the doors, turn off the porch lights, put the meat from the freezer on a plate to defrost in the fridge… he’d done all that. Go upstairs, check. Brush his teeth, check. Floss, check. Give his boyfriend his good night kiss, ch… wait a second. Greg furrowed his brow. No, he hadn’t. They’d been talking about Greg’s pregnant sister when they turned off the lights, and Jesse had dozed off. That’s what it was. Greg felt warm when he realized it. He couldn’t sleep without his goodnight kiss. Jesse meant that much to him.

Greg tilted his head up and pressed his lips to Jesse’s soft, open ones, their stubble brushing together. He couldn’t wait to tell Jesse in the morning… and that was his last thought before he fell off into deep sleep.

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Text is fictional. The actors are Tom Cullen and Chris New, and this gif is from the heartbreakingly beautiful gay film Weekend.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

My boyfriend is adorable. He has a child-like fascination for arts, music, animals, nature. He enjoys a day at the zoo as much as a day at the museum. He’s not scared to try new foods or beers whose names he can’t pronounce or go to unfamiliar cities beyond the subway lines. We often spend entire days together, wandering from place to place, having little adventures instead of dates.

Thing is, my boyfriend has a moderate form of chronic fatigue syndrome. After our time together he often just simply cannot make it home or stand any longer. Instead of just calling him a cab and shoving him in, I lovingly carry him all the way back to the car or back to one of our flats. He clings to me like a koala, often falling asleep with his head nestled against my shoulder.

I’m proud to be his man. He told me his other boyfriends got bored and frustrated with his condition; he rarely left the house. The fact that I can make him smile and help him live a normal life is part of the reason I love him so much. He is so positive and optimistic, that I cannot help but be in a good mood around him. I don’t mind the stares of people as I carry my boyfriend down the street. I want them to know what love looks like, in any form.

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Text is fictional

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

spacerobotfive:

A midday nap in his arms.

The room had originally been half sun-room, half parlor, a small walled off addition in his aunt’s Victorian-era apartment for visiting guests to drink tea and gossip. In these recent times, it housed storage, a collection of light hungry plants, and a small bed for over-night guests. It was our home now, and that little niche was our space. After Matt’s parents kicked him out for being gay, I ran away from foster care with him to his aunt’s home two hours away. Matt called her in tears; she immediately bought us a bus ticket and told us to get our butts on it. We arrived with a duffel bag each, hungry and exhausted, but holding hands and smiling.

She’d set us up in this tiny room and let us have our privacy. It wasn’t going to be easy. I needed to finish my GED since I failed my senior year; we needed to get our footing and pick a direction for us to go. My baby, Matt, I’m so proud of him though. He’s from a wealthy family and never had to want for anything, but the morning after we arrived he went and got himself a job serving at a diner. I knew it couldn’t have been easy on his pride, his confidence. Did I mention how much I love him? It’s hard to know at this age if “love” is “forever love” or just “stupid love”, but I think it’s a little of both.

Matt got back from working the early breakfast shift and went right to bed for a nap. He was so worn-out. I took a break from doing chores, intending to reward him for his hard work with slow, lazy sex, but he was already asleep. My poor Matt. I spoon up next to him, wiggling my arms around his shoulders.
“Hey,” he mutters, more of a grunt than anything, but the corner of his lip goes up.
“Sorry didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, kissing the back of his neck, “You’re so nice and warm though.”
“Mmm, itsh nice. Love you,” he smiles again, before drifting back off. It’s the beginning of a wonderful afternoon nap together, like two lazy cats in the sun. When he’ll stir a a couple hours later, I intend to greet him with lube and a condom and make slow love to him. Wake him up with my hand between his legs. He loves that, when he’s in just the right mood.

Of course, my chores might not get done in time, but we need to make sure we take time for each-other. I worry that we’ll become so obsessed with ‘making it’ on our own that we’ll lose focus of why we’re doing it. Matt is my reason. I am his. I sniff the back of his neck. It smells faintly of strawberry conditioner, diner coffee, and him. God, I love this boy. I hope this really is the start to the long, long story of us. 

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Text is fictional. Been trying to caption this picture for months and am pleased with the results.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

When I came home, I originally thought I had walked into the wrong house. It sure looked like my house, but it was amazingly clean. The hardwood floors gleamed. The clutter was gone. Dust had been whisked away from the blinds and baseboard moulding. I walked through the house in a bit of a daze, like I was experiencing a show room instead of real life. The kitchen looked brand new; even the fridge had been purged, sterilized, and re-organized. As I wandered from room to room, I expected Gideon to pop out and want a hug from me, but the first floor was devoid of life. Well, human life, my tarantula in its terrarium was very much alive.

“Gideon…?” I whispered, shucking off my shoes before I ascended the stairs. Silence. I noticed the steps and the carpet at the top had been vacuumed. Good lord, he’d been busy!

I found my beloved boyfriend curled up asleep in my bed. Judging by the state of the bed, he was in the process of putting fresh sheets on the mattress when he curled up for a moment and just fell asleep. Poor thing, he was all tuckered out. We went skiing yesterday and then were up late edging and having sex – how he managed this much energy was a mystery. I worked in an office and today was draining for me even me.

I stood by the bed and watched him sleep, enamored by how precious he looked. He was entirely naked, which was all the more appealing. Recently Gideon had been expressing interest in sort of an alternative lifestyle in where the levels of equality are altered. I thought it was passing fetish, some kink he got into his head after finding some particular Tumblr blog or something… but the more I involved Gideon into my life, the more he seemed to fall into this role anyway. I see now that maybe it’s just naturally how he is. He wants to serve me. I lean over and kiss his forehead, but he’s so unconscious he doesn’t even stir. I cover him with blanket because he looks cold.

We’ll have to talk about this more in the morning. A Master/slave relationship might be too much for me, but a dom/sub or adult discipline relationship is definitely possible. A collar would look so pretty around his neck…and his ass would be a sight all pink if he misbehaved… plus, I could get used to the house like this.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat and found a previously missed note about lasagna warning in the oven. He made lasagna? That’s it, I’m keeping him, and he’s getting a big reward in the morning.

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Post is fictional.