When I wake to the sound of his alarm ringing obnoxiously on his phone, the first thing I think is that it feels right. Him here with me. Last night, he read to me until he dozed off in the middle of a slightly boring scene. I don’t blame him. I was snoozing for some of that as well. But I do have to admit that the sex scenes were pretty damn good. They gave me some ideas for things I want to do to him.
Maggie groans, his voice slightly hoarse from reading for so long. God, my fucking chest aches. Not once did he make me feel like shit for not being able to read well.
Unlike all the people who made fun of me growing up.
Stupid Sem.
A memory flashes through my mind of my older brother Liam breaking one kid’s nose for shouting that at me when I was in sixth grade. Luke also made his rounds, knocking out the bullies, until eighth grade when I shot up twelve inches and could take care of myself.
Now, no one messes with me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit about my inability to do simple everyday things, like reading small sentences or figuring out elementary math problems.
I pull Maggie closer to me, and he sighs, switching his alarm off and grabbing onto my hand. He presses it right over his heart, and I swear to god, I can’t move. I can feel his heart beating against my palm, and I want to keep him tucked against me forever.
I can’t, though, can I?
I blink rapidly at those thoughts and then lean down and brush a soft kiss against his ear.
“Wake up, Maggie.”
He grumbles and burrows a little further under the covers.
“Maggie, baby, time to get up.”
“Don’t wanna,” he mutters adorably.
“You’re going to be late for work. I still have to drive you home.”
“Ugh,” he mutters and then drags my hand from his chest to his hard morning wood. “Give me an incentive, Sem.”
Which is no hardship for me.
So, I do.
I stroke him languidly until he comes in my hand, with a low moan on his lips.
Then, when he’s finally up and dressed, his hair rumpled, a pillow crease indented on his right cheek, I tug my hoodie over his shivering body and carry him to my truck. He immediately moves to the middle seat, buckles in, and tucks himself against me.
When we arrive at his apartment, he lifts his head and presses a kiss on my jaw. “Thank you,” he says. I’m beginning to live for the small press of his soft lips against my skin. “I’ll call you when I’m done with work.”
“Okay,” I reply, and I help him hop out of my truck.
Maggie looks up at me with sleepy eyes. “You don’t have to walk me to my door, Sem. I can manage.”
“I know, but I’m gonna.”
He sighs in acceptance and presses himself against my chest. I just give in to the urge to pick him up of the ground. He wraps his arms around my neck, his legs locked against my back as I carry him to his door. I love that he allows me to lug him around. I won’t stop doing it until he tells me to.
Maggie huffs sleepily and then slides down my body. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a hug, and my heart squeezes inside of my chest.
I crush him to me and then force myself to let him go.
With a small wave, he disappears behind his door.
I fight the impulse to pick the lock and go inside. I always want to be near him. But I force myself back to my truck and drive to work instead.
The day drags on, and when it's finally time to leave, I head home to shower and then settle down with my paper and pencil to get these images out of my head. Because visions of Maggie last night have assaulted me all day, and I cannot get them out of my head.
His body curled up in my lap.