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Summary
Oh, wouldn't that be a sight? Sleepy Nick, hair disheveled and cheeks pressed up against his pillow, eyes bleary with tiredness- he was pulled out of his fantasy when he heard the moans coming out of Nick's bedroom.
Oh, he must be waking up- but the moans and groans continued. Perhaps he's hurt? In a moment of concern and wonder, he opened the door.
Gatsby felt his mouth dry.
God, that was a sight, wasn't it? Disheveled hair, cheek pressed against the pillow, sweat precipitating around his forehead, eyes glazed with arousal and- Jesus Christ.