Chapter 2Wes woke with his boyfriend wrapped around him like a drowsy strand of holiday lights, and lay there for a moment basking in the sensation. He didn’t have to get up and teach—though he did have to finish grading at some point—and the rain had come back, a hushed rustling whisper. Their bed was pillowy and blanket-snug and warm. And Finn was breathing softly against his shoulder.
He wanted this every morning. All of his mornings. Forever.
Finn said, without moving, “You feel nice.” He sounded sleepy, but there wasn’t much sleepy about the way his hand wandered across Wes’s stomach, hip, lower.
Every part of Wes woke up more. Stirring. Happy. “You’re nice to wake up with. And that’s—mmm, okay, good morning.”
Finn’s hand kept playing with his arousal, stroking, enjoying hardness,
