[Saturday - 11:20 AM]

Jonathan blinked awake, the room spinning slightly as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight peeking through the blinds. The familiar haze of last night’s high still clung to him, his limbs heavy, mind sluggish. He shifted under the sheets and immediately realized he wasn’t in his own bed.

The distinct scent of his lover filled his senses, the soft, worn fabric of the sheets brushing against his bare skin. He groaned quietly, rubbing a hand over his face, the dull throb of his head reminding him of just how much they’d smoked last night. Slowly, he turned his head to the side and saw the sleeping figure beside him, still fast asleep, their breath slow and steady. The sight sent a wave of heat rushing through Jonathan’s body, memories of last night trickling back in pieces—laughing, the thick haze of smoke filling the room, the way a hand had brushed against his thigh, and the way Jonathan hadn’t stopped it.

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening with the familiar mix of guilt and desire that always followed mornings like this. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t feel this way—but he was, and the need that gnawed at him refused to go away. Jonathan pushed himself up slightly, the sheet sliding down his bare torso, revealing more of the mess they’d made. His jeans were on the floor, carelessly thrown aside, and his shirt hung halfway off the edge of the bed.

He looked over at the sleeping figure again, eyes tracing the way the blanket draped over their body, the way their hair was tousled from sleep. Jonathan bit his lip, hard, trying to focus on anything else. But his gaze kept drifting back, his mind replaying how it felt to press his body against another’s, to hear the quiet gasps between kisses. It was always like this—the morning after, the reality settling in, and the tension between them even thicker than before.

Jonathan leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as he let out a slow breath. His hand slid down to rest on his lover’s hip, fingers brushing lightly, almost testing. The urge to pull them closer was almost overwhelming, but Jonathan hesitated, his mind still tangled between what he wanted and what he knew he shouldn’t want.

“Hey...” His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. He swallowed, trying to clear the fog in his head. “You awake?”

There was no answer, just the steady rise and fall of his lover’s chest. Jonathan’s fingers tightened a little on their hip, his eyes flicking down to the curve of their body under the blankets. The heat that had been simmering under his skin all morning flared again, sharper now, harder to ignore.

He shifted closer, his lips brushing the back of their neck, a soft, lingering touch. His hand trailed slowly down, fingers pressing into their skin just enough to make his intentions clear.

“You know,” Jonathan whispered against their ear, his voice low, filled with that familiar mix of guilt and craving, “we’ve got time... before anyone finds out.”

His hand slid lower, gripping their waist, possessive but careful, his breath warm against their skin. The tension in the room thickened, and Jonathan closed his eyes, trying to hold onto the moment—because once the real world came crashing back, everything would be different again.