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Try as he might, Sapnap found it impossible to fall asleep to the sound of the shade hitting the windowpane.
The nighttime breeze kept a fairly regular pattern, whispering in the window and moving the plastic cover away from the glass, just far enough that there was blissful quiet, before it receded and the shade hit with a snap.
He was drowsy enough that it shouldn’t have been an issue. The breeze certainly wasn’t, cooling the room to something just below comfortable. He didn’t mind sleeping that way, drifting off in a chill perfect for extra blankets and comforters.
Or cuddling.
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. No . Just because a certain object of his affection was sleeping right down the hall didn’t mean he was allowed to start pining. This time of night, this proximity, was no moment for longing , he thought, as want seared his mind and his skin.
He wanted to be gentle, to be so soft and careful should George let even his hand make contact. The whisper of a few fingertips over his forehead, into his hair. His other hand could–could hold–
The hand in question floundered on the sheets, gripping the fabric in pointless frustration. That wasn’t happening, not to Sapnap, so what was the point of even dreaming about it? Each envisioned kiss, every tender moment he imagined was pure torture for his senses, because everything seemed so real when he pictured it.
He closed his eyes.
“Sapnap?”
It was a whisper, not meant to wake someone who was sleeping. Sapnap turned his head and saw the door cracked open, George’s face peering through.
“Come in,” Sapnap answered, and the words seemed to make no noise at all.
George opened the door fully, silhouetted in the hallway light. He stepped forward to close it behind him, fingers trailing slowly off the doorknob.
In a midnight haze, Sapnap let himself look. George was comfortable, in sweatpants and a soft t-shirt hanging off his shoulder. His hair was dark, lit only by moonlight, and the breeze from the window moved the curls gently.
He was stunning.
Sapnap was starting to wonder how soft his hair would feel when George moved, grabbing the comforter and pulling it back. Sapnap made a little affronted noise at the warmth that rushed out, a sound that turned into a gasp as George lifted the blankets higher and slid in next to him.
“You–”
“You said ‘come in’,” George reminded him, unperturbed. “Just now.”
Words stuck in his throat, breathless. “I mean, I did? I guess? I did say that, yeah.”
“I can go back to my own bed, Sapnap.” George said evenly. “But I thought you might like me to stay.”
“Yeah.” Sapnap breathed. “I’d really like that.”
He looked into George’s eyes as he settled on the pillow, both boys on their sides, facing each other. George looked back, with the softest smile Sapnap had ever known.
“Do you need something, Sapnap?”
Maybe it was the night breeze, maybe it was the hour, but Sapnap’s tongue didn’t let his brain get involved in the answer. “Need something? No.”
He watched George’s smile spread, a soft flush covering his cheeks. “Do you want something?”
“Yes.” The word was a whisper.
“What do you want, Sapnap?”
He hadn’t seen George get closer, but the question had been breathed over his mouth, asked more with George’s eyes than his words. He felt cross-eyed, still making his best effort to look George in the face when he was so close, to not let his gaze drop to the boy’s lips.
You .
George kissed him before Sapnap could say the word, the confession melting between them as their lips met.
Sapnap forgot how to breathe. The kiss was ethereal, slow and sweet. His mind protested that it couldn’t be a first kiss, with that kind of confidence, that kind of familiarity. George was acting like this happened every night, like he was meant to climb into bed and kiss Sapnap.
His mind protested even louder when George pulled away.
He had no idea when George had wrapped his arms around his neck, slid his hands into his hair, but now wasn’t the time for questions.
“Again.”
George smiled again, eyes shining. “Of course, pretty boy. But let me show you something, first.”
He unwrapped his arms and found Sapnap’s hands beneath the blankets. He guided them to his own waist, where his shirt was riding up from lying down.
Sapnap took a breath as his palms made contact with skin. “I can–?”
George’s voice was threaded with starlight want. “Hold me, it’s alright.”
Emboldened, Sapnap gently pulled George so the brunette was laying on top of him.
“My hands are so cold,” He worried aloud, even as he moved them over George’s skin.
“And I’m warm.”
George reached forward and held Sapnap’s face in his hands, looking at him for a moment before pulling him in for another kiss–and another, then another.
He moved his hands to push himself up, holding himself above Sapnap.
“That’s not fair,” Sapnap said, wonder in his voice, looking at the boy above him. “That’s not fair at all.”
“What’s not fair?” The teasing lilt in George’s voice revealed everything–a ploy, not a simple stretch.
“When you do that, I want–” Sapnap cut himself off, hesitant to even say the words aloud.
“Go ahead,” George said, a touch of seriousness in his voice. “I trust you.”
Sapnap reached up and pulled George down, into another kiss, this one more purposeful than the last. When the brunet pulled away to catch his breath, Sapnap turned his head slightly, and was rewarded with a quiet gasp.
George was warm here too, and soft. The red of his blush had spread over his face and down his neck to where Sapnap was kissing. This was better than any imagined moment, any instance when George had stretched with his arms overhead on a call, head tilting one way or the other. Sapnap had kept his mouth shut, never whispering how much he wanted it.
But now, now he could. He could hold, and have, and kiss.
He tilted George’s chin up further, and kissed his collarbones, too, just for good measure. He pressed another to the hollow in his throat, then one more, working in slow, dizzying patterns. The small hours of the morning surely knew no greed, and Sapnap let himself indulge in what he’d wanted for so long.
George’s eyes were closed as Sapnap moved back up, pressing their lips together again.
“Sapnap,” George whispered into the kiss.
“Hm?” He pulled back just enough to let their eyes meet.
George brought one hand up and cupped Sapnap’s cheek, letting his thumb brush over the boy’s parted lips. Sapnap wanted to kiss each fingertip, wanted to wrap George’s hand in his own and never let go.
“Don’t get too lonely.”
George’s words were spoken on a breeze, softer than want and longing.
The shade moved forward, almost suspended in time, and then hit the windowsill with a snap of plastic.
Sapnap opened his eyes.