Page 16 of Roleplay at Randy's
Should it make me happy that he's still thinking about me like that?
“Maybe I’ll get one of the guys to sneak a video for you.”
This time his groan is muffled, like he's got his face covered.
“You are a cruel man, Elias. I amweakfor dancers, okay? And I'm weak for that little soft spoken laugh thing you keep doing.”
This is part of why I like our late night chats so much; there's an earnestly honest side of Matty that comes out, a filter that falls away, when sleep and relaxation take hold of him.
“Bear with me for a little longer, sweetheart.”
“Elias.” He breathes my name like it's an extension of his lungs. “I think Cal might be falling asleep.”
By the way his voice falters and fades, I think the one falling asleep might be Matty. I'm close enough to home that I’m not worried. It's not like I haven't fallen asleep myself waiting Cal out some nights.
“Where are you?”
There's some more rustling, another yawn. “The couch.Calum is sprawled under the coffee table with his blanket and tablet. Hasn't moved in a few minutes.”
His voice trails off a bit and softens, laden with heavy sleep.
“Thank you,” I say, fully expecting the confused “hm?” I get in return.
I don't elaborate, because I can already hear his deepened breathing.
The natural thing would be to hang up, but knowing he’s right there, having his light snores in my ear, it's comforting in such a foreign way.
Intimacy goes so far beyond sex and wandering hands. It's moments like these where I can imagine Matty is a lover waiting up for me. Curled up on the couch, he'd climb into my arms when I walk through the door and let me carry him to bed.
Where nothing would happen except us holding one another. Gentle hands exploring, soothing, but not arousing.
That's what I miss about having a partner. It's not the sex—its the connection.
And I have to admit the connection I've already found with Matty has my head in a tailspin.
When I unlock the door and step inside, all the lights are off except for a dim lamp in the corner of the living room. Calum is, indeed, fast asleep under the coffee table, and I set my bag and phone down near the kitchen entryway to scoot it back enough to hoist his little body in my arms.
He doesn’t wake, but the moment I roll him into his bed, he kicks back the big comforter and buries himself inside it. After a few seconds where he doesn’t move, I know he’s settled back to sleep.
Coming out of the hall, I can see over the back of thecouch to where Matty is passed out. He’s on his stomach with his face scrunched against one of Cal’s stuffed animals.
I head to the hall closet to grab one of the spare blankets—and there are dozens because Cal loves blankets and also loves making a mess of them—and move around to drape it over Matty’s body.
He makes a few small noises in the back of his throat, wiggling a bit to get more comfortable, but he stays asleep. My heart kicks up a notch when I spot his phone still clutched in his hand resting on the cushion in front of his face.
Maybe he likes talking to me as much as I like talking to him.
It’s only for a second, a brief point of contact, but I push the hair curtaining his face back with my fingers, letting them graze his cheek and the shell of his ear. He smiles softly, reflexively, at the touch, and I rest my whole palm on his face. I make gentle strokes of my thumb along his cheek and nose, hesitating but ultimately giving in to letting it wander to his lips.
His exhaled breath hits my skin, and his happy hum sends my stomach fluttering.
“Riley …” He breathes the name like a sigh of relief, and the fluttering turns to rocking waves that churn my insides.
Still, even as disappointment for something I wasn’t intending to pursue sinks like a stone in my gut, I don’t pull my hand away.
I stroke his cheek, his neck, run my fingers through his long, soft hair, and enjoy how reactive he is to the touch even in his sleep.
There’s a sadness I can’t quite describe, so I let my hand fall back to my side, watching him for only a moment more before ghosting my lips over his forehead and pushing to my feet.
