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Summary
“Nick…” Chris whines sleepily as his hips rock harder against Nick’s thigh, one of his hands clutching at the front of Nick’s t-shirt. Nick hums quietly, eyes closing, and shushes the boy while lifting his knee up a little to give Chris more of his thigh to use.
“Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs, feeling the pull of sleep tugging at his body as Chris squirms.
