Emotional

When I thought he'd fallen back into a deep slumber, he strengthened his grip on my waist and pulled me even closer. My heart was pounding as he nuzzled into my long hair. He breathed me in and let out a satisfied huff, the damp heat tickling against my scalp. Then, he curled his knees up, and I felt the stiff bulge through his shorts.

Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Have I finally lost my mind?

My whole body flushed and broke into a sweat. I struggled to resist flipping over to wake him up and kiss him. My breath quickened to catch up with my racing heart. Why is he rock-hard? To torture me?

Caleb is straight, I reminded myself. He's not popping a boner because he's secretly dreaming of you. Morning wood is a reflex, nothing more. He's not into dorky little femboys, or any boys at all — you're just delusional.

“Preston,” he mumbled into my hair. “Hm?”

My cock pulsed as he slurred my name. Caleb slowly registered who was lying beside him, his muscles stiffening as his rational brain came online. He hurriedly pulled back to create distance between our bodies. The absence of his warmth was obvious as my sweat rapidly cooled.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to get up in your space.”

“It's okay,” I choked out.

“You feelin’ a'right?” His voice was raspy with sleep. I felt my body quaking as he rubbed my back. "You're really warm. You’re not sick, are ya?”

“I'm fine,” I squeaked. “I feel fine.”

“You’re shakin’ like a leaf,” he fawned. The sleepy crackle in his voice as he doted on me was precious torture. “Pipsqueak?”

Oh, Caleb, don't call me that. Not in that voice. Not now.

The longer he investigated, the more likely he was to notice my arousal. And how pathetic I am. If he catches me with a raging hard-on, the shame will actually kill me.

“I'm gonna grab my phone,” I blurted out, hurriedly freeing myself from the covers tangled around my legs. “See you in a bit.”

“Oh,” Caleb mumbled. “Okay.”

He sounded surprisingly dejected, but there was no time to think. I bolted before he could say anything else — or spot my ridiculous erection.

Alone in my room, I peeled my shirt off and flopped on the bed. As I cooled down, it became painfully clear that the problem wasn't fading anytime soon. I'm going to have to deal with it.

I freed my cock, grabbed some lotion and spread it with a few quick strokes. The immediate relief I felt was short-lived, and I worked quickly, trying to get it over with. His raspy voice, his slept-in musk, his breath in my hair. Fuck, his hard cock against my ass-

“Pipsqueak?” Caleb's voice floated through my door, freezing me in place. “Um… I feel like shit. I'm gonna take a shower.”

I swallowed hard, searching for a response. Instead of anything useful, my brain provided an image of Caleb in the shower. My pulse throbbed against my hand.

“I still wanna go.” His voice grew soft and anxious. “I’m sorry I slept late. Promise I'll be quick, a'right?”

“No worries,” I managed. “Take your time.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his footsteps shuffling down the hall.

I jerked myself stiffly, picturing him getting into the shower. Peeling his clothes off, piece by piece. His shoulders, his pecs, his lower back. That huge, gorgeous ass I've never seen bare. Water running over his freckled skin-

Caleb's text tone sounded from the nightstand as I hit the edge. I grabbed my dirty T-shirt and whimpered into my hand as my release covered the fabric. Chest heaving and head spinning, I flopped onto my back. Once I caught my breath, I reached for my phone.

Dummy (Caleb): I didn't mean to rub on you like that. I was out of it

Dummy (Caleb): I'm sorry if I made it weird :/ I feel like a creep now

Dummy (Caleb): Please don't be mad at me… I still wanna go today

Preston: You're not a creep. And I'm not mad, don't worry

I stared at my ceiling and sighed. As the high dissipated, the familiar prickle of shame crept through my skin. He thinks what he did was creepy? It was an accident. He wasn't even awake.