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The grey light of dawn seeping in through the blinds was what woke Viktor. He was normally a morning person, but last night he’d gone on a real bender with Chris, and the first thing he noticed was this insistent little ache just behind his left eye. That, and the fact that he didn’t have blinds in his bedroom.
He turned his head very carefully to make sure his eye didn’t pop out of his skull, and on the pillow right next to him was a mass of black hair that stuck up in all directions. The hair was attached to a head of course, but he couldn’t see much of the face since the owner had buried it in the pillow, probably to avoid that pesky daylight.
Viktor frowned and tried to think. It seemed he wasn’t in his own bedroom, because duh, blinds. Would it follow logically that he was in the bedroom of the black-haired person next to him? Who was he? Was it even a he? He shook his head minutely, and regretted it immediately, as the bed seemed to start spinning. It had to be a male, he was, after all, very much gay.
But how had he ended up here, wherever here was? The last thing he could recall with some clarity was dancing at a club… dancing with someone, laughing, twirling and being dipped by a beautiful young man with a mop of black hair and glasses with blue frames. So how had he gone from dancing and enjoying himself with this lovely vision to waking up in someone else’s bed?
He needed to leave. He needed to leave, now, before the stranger whose bed he’d slept in woke up, perhaps expecting something from him. He didn’t think they had… he was too familiar with the feeling of having had drunk sex, the soreness, the raw, uncomfortable feeling that came with a side of shame. There was none of that now, so they had probably just fooled around a bit and then passed out. Nevertheless, he needed to leave.
He sat up slowly, getting his bearings. His clothes were strewn all over the floor, along with some pieces that he presumed belonged to his bed mate. He dressed as quietly as possible and made to leave, turning around at the last minute in the doorway.
He froze. On the nightstand next to the bed were a pair of glasses with blue frames. He took a couple of steps closer to the bed. Was it…?
The sleeping man stirred underneath the covers, then raised his head and looked him straight in the eyes. His gaze was still somewhat unfocused, sleepy, but the eyes were a warm, honey-brown, and Viktor knew those eyes. He’d looked deep into them last night and asked their owner to take him home.
The man in the bed whispered:
“Angel…”
“No, just Viktor…”
“Come back to bed angel. Don’t leave me.”
“Never.”
Maybe the sun's light will be dim
And it won't matter anyhow
If morning's echoes say we've sinned
Well, it was what I wanted now