The next morning Alex woke to find his sheets twisted around his legs, his body sheathed in sweat. Half-remembered dreams clouded his mind, tangled memories of red curls, deep eyes, full, pouting lips. He could still sense Jamie above him, the powerful muscles in his arms standing out like cords, cheeks flushed, that hint of a smile back on his face. Even as he shook himself awake, Alex felt himself drowning in those lapis eyes, falling and moving against Jamie, holding his breath as they clung desperately to each other.
Jesus, Alex thought, running an unsteady hand through his hair. He’s inside me.
When Alex kicked free of the covers, he felt the wetness at his crotch and grimaced as he stood. His boxers clung to him, damp, clammy. f**k. When was the last time he had a wet dream? I me
