[Featured in FreetheLGBT: Diverse Literature reading list and Humor: Young. Dumb. Full of Fun list]
Colin Mitchell, a photographer at a well-known store, Snapshot, is openly gay--mostly. His ideal experiences are sexcapades that are always subtle, n...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hands shaking Colin's body, Peter called out his name for the umpteenth time. The guy was like a freaking dead body-- aside that he was, in fact, still breathing and very much alive. "Colin, wake up already."
Peter groaned, falling over his roommate's body. He had tried prying Colin's eyelids open. He had tried fanning and directing his morning breath into Colin's face. He had tried sticking his cold feet in the back of Colin's sweatpants. None had worked and he eventually got out of bed, returning only to meet Colin's unconscious form once again.
"Dude. What. Is. Wrong. With. You?" Peter shook Colin after every uttered word, almost tempted to emphasise his actions with slaps when he still received no response. He couldn't trust himself to do it lightly, so he grabbed a pillow.
After the first few hits, Colin's brown eyes blinked open. "Damn, I'm up. I'm up." His arms went up to block the hits and lower impact of the pillow, shielding his face. Peter kept whacking Colin, only stopping when Colin seized both his wrists and flipped them over.
Peter received the most confused look from his roommate as Colin finally got the pillow out of his hand. The older guy's gaze radiated volumes of confusion as he blinked rapidly, nose scrunched.
"You scared the shit out of me," the dark-haired guy let out in explanation. "You sleep like a fucking rock. I thought you were in a trance or something."
"I guess I was really tired," Colin yawned and Peter held his nose, waving his hand in the air. Colin intentionally let his mouth fall open and blew on his face. They had a lazy struggle where one tried to overpower the other, with as much effort as a sloth put into running a race-- very little. Peter won. He was back on top and Colin lay underneath.
"You were tired, yet you wanted us to..." The Asian's sentence was allowed to hang in the air for a while, unfinished but complete. His gaze lowered as he slid off Colin's body and perched down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his slightly damp hair.
"Yeah," Colin laughed, eyes half-closed. "I could have gone another round-- or two-- if you wanted."
Peter bit down on his lip as a heavy breath left his nostrils. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping that it was distracting enough to drain the colour out of his cheeks. He faked a cough when he realized it was no use, he was going to have to deal with the flushed look for a while. And apparently, being speechless.
"Speaking of that, you feeling okay?"
He didn't want to talk about how he was feeling. He had had enough of 'feeling.' Especially now that his backside ached whenever it came into contact with any surface, now that his head hurt from thinking about what he had done with Colin, and his heart beat so fast he couldn't figure if it wanted out. It all hurt. There was too much 'feeling,' his body could handle so much. "Get up, you are supposed to get me to school before 10. We're already gonna be late," Peter murmured.
