Page 91 of Devilry

When I finally hang up my last shirt and fill the ensuite with my toiletries, I turn to look at Elijah, finding him diligently writing notes while reading.

“I’m just going to take these empty boxes downstairs and finish up a few things down there before coming back up. I'll be right back.”

He raises his hand to me in a wave, unable to take his eyes off the book, and a little part of me swells with pride. I’ve never met anyone as attentive and focused as Elijah; there isn’t a success in the world that he doesn’t deserve.

It takes me a little longer than I expected to set up my television. Flicking through the channels one more time, I make sure to check the picture and sound quality. Content enough to leave anything else I have till tomorrow or the weekend, it’s finally time to go upstairs and spend some time with Elijah.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush through the bedroom door only to find him with his head resting against the bed, his book still open on his lap, and his eyes closed.

He’s even beautiful when he's sleeping.

Tentatively, I walk over and take the book off of him. Placing it on the nightstand, I pack up his stationery and put it next to the book.

“Hey,” I whisper, running my fingers down his cheek. “Elijah, baby.” His long eyelashes flutter at the sound of my voice before opening. “You fell asleep.”

It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up and his eyes widen in shock when they do. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” His head moves from left to right, looking for all his belongings. “I’ll get going.”

“Hey,” I soothe, squeezing his shoulder. “You don't need to go. If you can stay, I want you to stay.”

His body drops back into the bed in relief. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

A soft chuckle leaves my mouth as I run my fingers through his hair. “No. I definitely do not mind. Do you need something to sleep in?”

He shakes his head, still a little bit disorientated. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and I step back, giving him space. He stands up and haphazardly pulls down his pants and whips off his shirt.

Clumsily, he climbs back into the bed, under the covers, burying his face in the pillow, while I stand there rocking a semi at the thought of him practically naked beside me.

Walking around to the other side, I switch off the light before shucking off my own shorts. Sliding in next to him, I’m overthinking the sleep etiquette, worried if I plaster myself to him like I want, I’ll wake him up.

“Cole,” he whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Can you hold me?” His voice is soft and faint, the hints of neediness impossible to ignore. Relieved that he’s taken the guesswork out of my musings, I turn on my side and reach for him. With my arm snaked around his stomach, I pull his curled body into mine. Unable to resist, I kiss the nape of his neck and squeeze him close to me.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve never had someone sleep in my bed without having sex before,” I confess.

His hand skims down my thigh, until he reaches the back of my knee. Hooking it over his legs, I realize I'm now clinging onto him like he’s a tree.

Lacing his fingers through mine, he raises our hands to his lips and presses the most delicate, meaningful kiss to the top of it. “I guess it’s my turn to give you some firsts.”

I don't know how long we lay like that, but having his almost naked body and pert ass pressed up against me is the sweetest torture. It’s an underrated experience, the relaxed closeness adding a whole different dimension to our already existing connection.

I hear his breathing even out, just as my own eyes get heavier. My last thought before I let sleep take me is:I could get used to this.

* * *

Fingertips skateup and down my chest, drawing patterns, following my happy trail. My mind has acknowledged someone else’s touch, but my eyes are still too tired to open up.

It doesn’t feel too early, but considering my daily alarm hasn’t gone off yet, it’s probably close to six-thirty am.

The movements continue, grazing my nipples and teasing the waistband of my boxers. Elijah’s on a little exploration mission, and I have no desire to interrupt him.

Such a contrast to every person I’ve had in my bed before him, there’s no rush to be done. No desire to do anything but lounge around in bed, limbs and blankets intertwined.

Staying in bed overnight with someone was a rarity for me, and the morning after was always a quick dick and dash. I found anything more than the physical gratification irritating. I was selfish when it came to who was in my bed, what we did, and how long it went on for. But as Elijah’s hands start to rub up and down my very hard dick, I feel myself wanting to slow him down, wanting to indulge in all the things that didn’t matter before.

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