Page 86 of Method Acting

Fuck.

“I need to shower. I’m covered in crusty jizz.”

That kinda woke me up. Because I hadn’t taken care of him afterward at all. “Oh, let me get up,” I said, trying to roll over and not roll off the bed. I stood up, helping him stand as well. “Are you... do you feel okay?”

“I feel great,” he said, giving me that smile... that certain smile that kickstarted my heart. “Actually, I feel better than great.” Then he froze and his eyes met mine. “No, actually, I feel hungry.”

I shoved my towel at him and pushed him toward my shower. “Go. I’ll find you something.”

Something to wear. Something to eat. I wasn’t sure.

I pulled on some underwear and went through my stash of snacks. I found him a bag of chips. Figuring he’d probably be going home, so he could eat them on the way.

He came back out, hung my towel up, then got back into my bed, stark naked.

“What are you doing?”

“Correction. What are we doing. We,” he said, “are gonna watch one episode of Rick and Morty while I have a little snacky snack.” He opened his hands for the bag of chips. “Gimme gimme.”

I tossed them at him. “You’re so annoying.”

He patted the bed. “Come on.” Then he noticed... “Why’d you get dressed.”

“I hardly call putting on underwear getting dressed.”

He shoved a chip in his mouth. “Start the show and get in here. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“The spoon that sleeps while the other spoon gets crumbs in my bed.”

He laughed. “Little spoon you are.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, annoyed at being woken up, annoyed at him eating in my bed, annoyed at him being so damned cute.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Shh, it’s starting.”

He demolished the chips, then half the bottle of water from my nightstand, and was sound asleep before the credits rolled.

In my bed, as the big spoon. His huge body wrapped around me, his beautiful face almost surreal in the moonlight with his head on my pillow.

So annoying.

“But that’s my favorite shirt,” I said, taking it out of his hand.

“But that’s why I chose it.”

It was bad enough he’d spent the entire night, slept in my bed, and woke me up this morning by sucking my dick. It was also bad enough that I’d made him straddle me so I could suck his.

But now he wanted to wear my favorite shirt. “It’s not a replica. It’s an actual vintage Grateful Dead shirt.”

He snatched it back and pulled it over his head. “Even better.”

“God, I hate you.”

He laughed. “Ah, no you don’t. Pretty sure you saying ‘get up here and feed me your dick’ is the opposite of hate. And then giving me a blow job like you’re winning gold at the suck-a-pea-through-a-straw Olympics?—”

“Shut up. I did not say get up here and feed me your dick.”

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