[ nick doesn't let him go right away, still stroking him through his orgasm with long, lazy pumps, until august has all but collapsed in his arms and his cock is softening in nick's palm. even then he entertains the thought of falling asleep exactly like this, august still cupped in hand, but there's self-indulgence and then there's impracticality, so he's gentle and careful as he slides his hand back out of august's underwear.
...he's less gentle and careful when he wipes his palm on the back of august's shirt, but fuck it, it's fine. nick will get him a clean shirt in the morning, after they've showered all this mess away and maybe had a repeat performance or two. he's more concerned with winding both his arms back around august's body now that he has them both free, listening to the pants still coming out of him, feeling his forehead sweaty and warm against his own. ]
Yeah.
[ nick doesn't know what he's agreeing to but he knows that he does, with complete certainty. his eyes close too, and it's maybe the first time where he thinks that this could be enough and really believes it. he doesn't kiss august, just exhales in tandem with him, wonders if their hearts are thudding away in rhythm with each other too. ]
[is all he can manage. a drunk August is one easily manipulated, and here they are half above the covers with his arms loose and heavy around Nick's body. he's agreeing with him and his brows furrow -- did he say the whole thing? did Nick just say yeah in response? -- but his voice is a distant whisper and sleep is swallowing up whatever parts of him are left awake. he can't fight it, cant argue or ask any more questions.
he's out within a few minutes, forehead still pressed against his, the soft exhales of Nick matching his breathing soothing him into a kind dreamland. a kind one is an empty one, and there's nothing waiting for him there in his subconscious tonight. he wakes much later - probably in the early afternoon, to bend Nick over and fuck him into the bed before falling asleep (again). he fills another appetite that day, regular food isn't on the menu.]
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...he's less gentle and careful when he wipes his palm on the back of august's shirt, but fuck it, it's fine. nick will get him a clean shirt in the morning, after they've showered all this mess away and maybe had a repeat performance or two. he's more concerned with winding both his arms back around august's body now that he has them both free, listening to the pants still coming out of him, feeling his forehead sweaty and warm against his own. ]
Yeah.
[ nick doesn't know what he's agreeing to but he knows that he does, with complete certainty. his eyes close too, and it's maybe the first time where he thinks that this could be enough and really believes it. he doesn't kiss august, just exhales in tandem with him, wonders if their hearts are thudding away in rhythm with each other too. ]
Go to sleep, I've got you.
🎀
[is all he can manage. a drunk August is one easily manipulated, and here they are half above the covers with his arms loose and heavy around Nick's body. he's agreeing with him and his brows furrow -- did he say the whole thing? did Nick just say yeah in response? -- but his voice is a distant whisper and sleep is swallowing up whatever parts of him are left awake. he can't fight it, cant argue or ask any more questions.
he's out within a few minutes, forehead still pressed against his, the soft exhales of Nick matching his breathing soothing him into a kind dreamland. a kind one is an empty one, and there's nothing waiting for him there in his subconscious tonight. he wakes much later - probably in the early afternoon, to bend Nick over and fuck him into the bed before falling asleep (again). he fills another appetite that day, regular food isn't on the menu.]