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Summary
Naim shuddered.
All of the nights he had spent, replaying the kiss in the mill over and over, the feeling of Ryan’s soft lips, the haze of weed and Ryan’s hands carding through his hair, cradling his skull-
Naim had lost count of the night he had pressed the glossy surface of the photobooth strip against his cheek as he stroked his cock, toes curling under his sheets as he panted into his pillowcase, precum dribbling around his fist as he sobbed, wanting Ryan’s touch, Ryan’s mouth on his, desperately wanting to be in the circle of Ryan’s arms again. Watching Ryan during class, how badly he wanted to follow him everywhere, to be in space, breathe in his scent-
Or
Naim has a dream about something.
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