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To say that Clyde was a little surprised when he got home might be an understatement.
It had seemed normal at first, Stensland on the couch, watching Dawson’s Creek (what he saw in that ages old show, Clyde was never sure about, but he didn’t mind it too much as long as he didn’t have to constantly watch it with him). There was the scent of weed in the air, but that was another thing he didn’t mind. It was normal. It was home.
But when he sat on the couch alongside him, to greet him as any proper boyfriend should do after getting off of work, even at 5 AM in the morning, instead of leaning against him, Stensland pushed him down on the couch. Before he could get any proper words in, the younger man was lying along him, head atop on his stomach.
Clyde blinked down at him in bewilderment, though his hands found themselves easily wandering along his body, one settling at a hip while the other tangled in the soft red hair that threatened to tickle where his shirt had ridden up.
“Stens, sweetheart, what are you doin’?”
Stensland nuzzled into his stomach before lifting his head, looking up at him.
“You’re my new pillow.” The statement was made so simple, so surely, without any room for arguing, Clyde could only stare when he put his head back down, rubbing his face against his stomach once more, only the fabric of his shirt between them.
Clyde could feel his face heating, both with the strangeness of the situation and the proximity to…certain things.
Trying to look anywhere but at Stens, his eyes lighted on the table, where the bong sat.
“Babe, just how much have you had?”
“Not enough,” was the mumbled reply.
Clyde shivered as fingers danced along his waist, pushing his shirt up slowly, caressing his skin as each little inch was revealed. “I don’t think I would make a very good pillow,” he managed to say, feeling a flush crawling down his skin, now, heating it.
“Nonsense. You’re the perfect pillow.” Words were hot against the now bare skin of his abdomen, and still he shivered, heat pooling within him.
Perhaps life as a pillow wouldn’t be too bad, Clyde thought, as Stensland mouthed at his navel, slowly moving southward. Perhaps it could even be enjoyable, if it was always like this.