( o1o ) you know, my darling, i can't stand to sleep alone
pairing; andrew/jesse (rpf)
prompt; here at the kinkmeme; originally posted anonymously here.
rating; pg-13 for kisses and implied sexual intercourse.
author's note & disclaimer; yep. title from bat for lashes. i own nothing and am being paid just that, for that. 1958 words.
Jesse has this thing where he is kind of absurdly adorable when he's sleepy, Andrew realizes, watching him stifling yawns, crushed into Andrew's side on the sofa.
He knows Jesse won't be able to fall asleep in the living room, so he wrestles to untangle them and half-drags Jesse along to the bedroom. He's even more adorable when he's sleeping, buried in a nest of blankets with his favourite one clutched in his fists and smashed against his face, so that he can breathe in the fresh-linen scent of the dryer sheets it was dryed with days ago, and all of the musky old childhood scents that are buried underneath.
It's cream coloured, and soft, and the plush fleece is worn from too many cycles in the washer and dryer. It's like a baby blanket, only larger; the edging is all pale blue satin, and silky-smooth to the touch.
Jesse's had it for years, probably since he was a child. It's so old and it's seen so many different hotel rooms and apartments and beds and floors that the edges are frayed and unraveling, and some of the thread from the satin is coming apart.
On one of the corners, the edging is ripping almost completely away from the blanket, from where it got caught in a suitcase zipper in a rush to pack for a trip to Los Angeles. There's a bleach stain on the opposite corner and a cigarette burn somewhere in the middle and something that looks like it might be a scribble from a sharpie marker somewhere near the burn, and Jesse's not exactly sure where any of those things came from.
Jesse is more comfortable cuddling that blanket than he has ever been cuddling with Andrew. He wraps himself in it easily; whereas with Andrew, it takes an intense orgasm wrung out from him before he can curl into Andrew - and even then, Jesse is only comfortable doing it because his brain is still hazy from the afterglow, too loose-limbed and pliant to put up much of a fight about it, much to Andrew's satisfaction.
Jesse snuffles into the fabric of the blanket where it's pressed against his cheek and Andrew desperately wants to rip it away from him and replace it with himself; he wants to place his hands where the blanket is resting loosely over Jesse's hip, wants to press his mouth into his cheek, instead of the blanket.
But he knows Jesse can't sleep without it near him, he's so familiarized and comfortable with it - it's the one thing he's known wouldn't leave his side in bed for the years it's been with him. He's terrified of one night stands and partners who are only interested in sex, or a quick fuck, and the blanket can't leave him.
He wakes up each morning much the same as he falls asleep: wrapped in the soft, warm embrace of his favourite blanket, and it's so much more reliable than any of his former partners. He couldn't trust that they all wouldn't just up and leave during the middle of the night, and it makes him feel good knowing that he can grow attached to something and not be left alone and hurt by it.
When he's upset he doesn't have to humiliate himself crying in front of friends who don't know how to help; he can stay at home in bed, alone, wrapped in the warm fleece of the blanket who's musky scent could put him to sleep on his worst and most insomnia-ridden of days. The blanket is his one friend who's always been there and always will be there for him, reassuring and soft and cuddly when he needs it.
Andrew's a little jealous of it, honestly. He wants to be the one Jesse trusts enough to cry in front of, to be the one to be able to calm him down and get him to sleep when he's too upset to stay awake. Andrew wants to be the thing Jesse cuddles at night, the warm, soft thing he wraps himself around when he's sleeping. He wants to be the only steady thing Jesse's kept around in his life for years, the only thing, the only person he's truly comfortably being around when he's exposed and vulnerable.
He wants Jesse to love him as much as he loves his blanket, as much as Andrew loves him, and he doesn't care if that makes him selfish.
*
One night he goes straight to Jesse's apartment from the airport, and it's late and Jesse is tucked into his blanket, napping on the couch. He made sure to call and warn Jesse ahead of time that he might stop by, and Jesse must have fallen asleep waiting up for him.
His fingers are wrapped around the silky edge of it, and half of his face is covered loosely by the fleece. His other arm is tangled under the blanket and his tshirt has ridden up enough to reveal a strip of soft, milky white flesh above his boxer-briefs and he looksadorable. And also uncomfortable, because he's passed out still sitting up; his legs are folded under him and he's pressed into the corner of the sofa, his head tilted to the side to rest on the cushion and his neck exposed.
Andrew sits next to him on the couch and pulls him into his side, draping the blanket more carefully over his lap, so he doesn't get cold. He kisses Jesse's temple and rests his chin on the mess of sleep-matted curls atop his head and thinks about Jesse curled into him, instead of the blanket.
*
The thing is, Jesse feels sort of ridiculous bringing his blankie to Andrew's, so he always leaves right after. He spent the night once, but it was their first time and he didn't want Andrew to get the wrong impression if he left immediately, so he lay in Andrew's bed with his eyes closed and Andrew's arm slung around his waist, listening to him snoring quietly until morning.
Andrew decides that the next time Jesse comes round, he'll just convince him to stay the night. He figures that an impossible number of orgasms should keep Jesse too weak and worn out to leave the room and too tired to do anything but fall asleep. He knows Jesse won't bring the blanket, and after so many orgasms it shouldn't be too hard to get Jesse to cling to him instead of the blanket, anyway; seeing as that's the only time Jesse really doesn't mind getting all touchy-feely with Andrew, when both of their bodies are still buzzing with energy and oversensitive from all the endorphins and adrenaline rushing through their veins.
He invites Jesse over the next weekend, cancels all of his other plans, and makes sure he's absolutely unreachable communication-wise. He stocks up on condoms and lube and buys a candle or two for the fun of it.
*
Orgasm number three that night - his fourth that day - leaves Jesse too breathless to complain when Andrew suggests that he just stay the night instead of attempting to leave the bed; he'll probably be sore, after all, and morning sex would totally be awesome, if he stayed. Maybe he'd even make Jesse breakfast, too.
Jesse tries too shove at Andrew's shoulder but misses, and chooses instead to clutch at fistfuls of the sheets around him and tug them to him. Not necessariy for coverage, but just to feel the smooth silk of them under his fingertips. He lets Andrew kiss his forehead and his cheek and his mouth, and he doesn't exactly mind the electricity flowing between them when Andrew can't seem to keep his hands off of him, fingers running down his waist and stomach and hips.
Andrew's skin is all warm and damp and it feels sort of nice against his own overheated body. It's warm without being overbearing like his blanket can sometimes feel after rigorous sex, but just as soft and smooth and soothing as the blanket feels. Andrew is playing it carefully, not knowing how Jesse will react to the idea of sleeping without the comfort of his blanket. He keeps his touches light and reverant and Jesse appreciates that.
He's tired but he's so used to the blanket being near him that he's not sure he'll be able to sleep without it; but it certainly doesn't hurt knowing that Andrew is almost guaranteed to not leave him during the night, as it is his bed.
Andrew tangles their legs together and kisses him again and there are weird, fluttery things going on in his ribcage; after about twenty minutes he thinks it looks like he won't be sleeping that night but then Andrew kisses the tip of his nose and his temple and says i love you, so much and other ridiculously sappy things to say after sex, like, gorgeous, my Jess, and so precious and something that sounds dangerously close to rest of my life with you and Jesse wants to trust him, feels that weird, safe feeling swelling in his chest that he's never felt around another person before. He doesn't feel the vulnerability he's used to, the fear that Andrew'll run off and leave him alone and heartbroken.
It takes another fifteen minutes or so but his heart rate starts to slow and his breath evens out and his eyelids are heavy and his fingers find their way into Andrew's palm and it's not long after that he falls asleep with Andrew's arm around him and Andrew's lips pressing into whatever of Jesse's bare flesh he can access easily.
*
He spends the night at Andrew's more often and finds it easier to sleep without the blanket each time. It almost feels better, having smooth skin to touch instead of old fleece. Having something living to trust makes him feel more at ease, having someone there that he trusts enough to breakdown in front of without feeling humiliated; someone who always tries to comfort him earnestly when it happens. He stops feeling so irrationally lonely without the blanket to comfort him constantly, and stops fearing that Andrew will leave him when he finds someone he likes for something more than just sex.
He even feels somewhat comfortable falling asleep in his own apartment without his blankie - the one time he and Andrew fucked on the couch and he fell asleep with Andrew collapsed on top of him; he was out like a light in an instant, not worried at all about not being able to sleep without it. Sleep just washed over him naturally, like a wave, and his fingers didn't twitch for the feel of the blanket against his skin; Andrew's own skin worked out nicely, warm againt his own.
There are days he still feels underconfident in their relationship - days he gets paranoid and worries Andrew will cheat on and/or leave him, and those days he takes refuge in his bed all day, clutching the blanket to his chest. It turns out to be a poor substitue for the comforting an the touching he'd gotten used to from Andrew, but it works all the same and Andrew tries his best not to feel jealous; he knows those days are once in a blue moon and Jesse would, at this point, more easily choose Andrew rather than the blanket when it comes to cuddling and comforting, and Andrew feels confident that one day it won't even be a question. One day, Andrew is sure, Jesse will stop needing the blankie altogether and will instead prefer to snuggle into Andrew, and Andrew, personally, looks forward to that day; even if it takes their whole lives.
prompt; here at the kinkmeme; originally posted anonymously here.
rating; pg-13 for kisses and implied sexual intercourse.
author's note & disclaimer; yep. title from bat for lashes. i own nothing and am being paid just that, for that. 1958 words.
Jesse has this thing where he is kind of absurdly adorable when he's sleepy, Andrew realizes, watching him stifling yawns, crushed into Andrew's side on the sofa.
He knows Jesse won't be able to fall asleep in the living room, so he wrestles to untangle them and half-drags Jesse along to the bedroom. He's even more adorable when he's sleeping, buried in a nest of blankets with his favourite one clutched in his fists and smashed against his face, so that he can breathe in the fresh-linen scent of the dryer sheets it was dryed with days ago, and all of the musky old childhood scents that are buried underneath.
It's cream coloured, and soft, and the plush fleece is worn from too many cycles in the washer and dryer. It's like a baby blanket, only larger; the edging is all pale blue satin, and silky-smooth to the touch.
Jesse's had it for years, probably since he was a child. It's so old and it's seen so many different hotel rooms and apartments and beds and floors that the edges are frayed and unraveling, and some of the thread from the satin is coming apart.
On one of the corners, the edging is ripping almost completely away from the blanket, from where it got caught in a suitcase zipper in a rush to pack for a trip to Los Angeles. There's a bleach stain on the opposite corner and a cigarette burn somewhere in the middle and something that looks like it might be a scribble from a sharpie marker somewhere near the burn, and Jesse's not exactly sure where any of those things came from.
Jesse is more comfortable cuddling that blanket than he has ever been cuddling with Andrew. He wraps himself in it easily; whereas with Andrew, it takes an intense orgasm wrung out from him before he can curl into Andrew - and even then, Jesse is only comfortable doing it because his brain is still hazy from the afterglow, too loose-limbed and pliant to put up much of a fight about it, much to Andrew's satisfaction.
Jesse snuffles into the fabric of the blanket where it's pressed against his cheek and Andrew desperately wants to rip it away from him and replace it with himself; he wants to place his hands where the blanket is resting loosely over Jesse's hip, wants to press his mouth into his cheek, instead of the blanket.
But he knows Jesse can't sleep without it near him, he's so familiarized and comfortable with it - it's the one thing he's known wouldn't leave his side in bed for the years it's been with him. He's terrified of one night stands and partners who are only interested in sex, or a quick fuck, and the blanket can't leave him.
He wakes up each morning much the same as he falls asleep: wrapped in the soft, warm embrace of his favourite blanket, and it's so much more reliable than any of his former partners. He couldn't trust that they all wouldn't just up and leave during the middle of the night, and it makes him feel good knowing that he can grow attached to something and not be left alone and hurt by it.
When he's upset he doesn't have to humiliate himself crying in front of friends who don't know how to help; he can stay at home in bed, alone, wrapped in the warm fleece of the blanket who's musky scent could put him to sleep on his worst and most insomnia-ridden of days. The blanket is his one friend who's always been there and always will be there for him, reassuring and soft and cuddly when he needs it.
Andrew's a little jealous of it, honestly. He wants to be the one Jesse trusts enough to cry in front of, to be the one to be able to calm him down and get him to sleep when he's too upset to stay awake. Andrew wants to be the thing Jesse cuddles at night, the warm, soft thing he wraps himself around when he's sleeping. He wants to be the only steady thing Jesse's kept around in his life for years, the only thing, the only person he's truly comfortably being around when he's exposed and vulnerable.
He wants Jesse to love him as much as he loves his blanket, as much as Andrew loves him, and he doesn't care if that makes him selfish.
*
One night he goes straight to Jesse's apartment from the airport, and it's late and Jesse is tucked into his blanket, napping on the couch. He made sure to call and warn Jesse ahead of time that he might stop by, and Jesse must have fallen asleep waiting up for him.
His fingers are wrapped around the silky edge of it, and half of his face is covered loosely by the fleece. His other arm is tangled under the blanket and his tshirt has ridden up enough to reveal a strip of soft, milky white flesh above his boxer-briefs and he looksadorable. And also uncomfortable, because he's passed out still sitting up; his legs are folded under him and he's pressed into the corner of the sofa, his head tilted to the side to rest on the cushion and his neck exposed.
Andrew sits next to him on the couch and pulls him into his side, draping the blanket more carefully over his lap, so he doesn't get cold. He kisses Jesse's temple and rests his chin on the mess of sleep-matted curls atop his head and thinks about Jesse curled into him, instead of the blanket.
*
The thing is, Jesse feels sort of ridiculous bringing his blankie to Andrew's, so he always leaves right after. He spent the night once, but it was their first time and he didn't want Andrew to get the wrong impression if he left immediately, so he lay in Andrew's bed with his eyes closed and Andrew's arm slung around his waist, listening to him snoring quietly until morning.
Andrew decides that the next time Jesse comes round, he'll just convince him to stay the night. He figures that an impossible number of orgasms should keep Jesse too weak and worn out to leave the room and too tired to do anything but fall asleep. He knows Jesse won't bring the blanket, and after so many orgasms it shouldn't be too hard to get Jesse to cling to him instead of the blanket, anyway; seeing as that's the only time Jesse really doesn't mind getting all touchy-feely with Andrew, when both of their bodies are still buzzing with energy and oversensitive from all the endorphins and adrenaline rushing through their veins.
He invites Jesse over the next weekend, cancels all of his other plans, and makes sure he's absolutely unreachable communication-wise. He stocks up on condoms and lube and buys a candle or two for the fun of it.
*
Orgasm number three that night - his fourth that day - leaves Jesse too breathless to complain when Andrew suggests that he just stay the night instead of attempting to leave the bed; he'll probably be sore, after all, and morning sex would totally be awesome, if he stayed. Maybe he'd even make Jesse breakfast, too.
Jesse tries too shove at Andrew's shoulder but misses, and chooses instead to clutch at fistfuls of the sheets around him and tug them to him. Not necessariy for coverage, but just to feel the smooth silk of them under his fingertips. He lets Andrew kiss his forehead and his cheek and his mouth, and he doesn't exactly mind the electricity flowing between them when Andrew can't seem to keep his hands off of him, fingers running down his waist and stomach and hips.
Andrew's skin is all warm and damp and it feels sort of nice against his own overheated body. It's warm without being overbearing like his blanket can sometimes feel after rigorous sex, but just as soft and smooth and soothing as the blanket feels. Andrew is playing it carefully, not knowing how Jesse will react to the idea of sleeping without the comfort of his blanket. He keeps his touches light and reverant and Jesse appreciates that.
He's tired but he's so used to the blanket being near him that he's not sure he'll be able to sleep without it; but it certainly doesn't hurt knowing that Andrew is almost guaranteed to not leave him during the night, as it is his bed.
Andrew tangles their legs together and kisses him again and there are weird, fluttery things going on in his ribcage; after about twenty minutes he thinks it looks like he won't be sleeping that night but then Andrew kisses the tip of his nose and his temple and says i love you, so much and other ridiculously sappy things to say after sex, like, gorgeous, my Jess, and so precious and something that sounds dangerously close to rest of my life with you and Jesse wants to trust him, feels that weird, safe feeling swelling in his chest that he's never felt around another person before. He doesn't feel the vulnerability he's used to, the fear that Andrew'll run off and leave him alone and heartbroken.
It takes another fifteen minutes or so but his heart rate starts to slow and his breath evens out and his eyelids are heavy and his fingers find their way into Andrew's palm and it's not long after that he falls asleep with Andrew's arm around him and Andrew's lips pressing into whatever of Jesse's bare flesh he can access easily.
*
He spends the night at Andrew's more often and finds it easier to sleep without the blanket each time. It almost feels better, having smooth skin to touch instead of old fleece. Having something living to trust makes him feel more at ease, having someone there that he trusts enough to breakdown in front of without feeling humiliated; someone who always tries to comfort him earnestly when it happens. He stops feeling so irrationally lonely without the blanket to comfort him constantly, and stops fearing that Andrew will leave him when he finds someone he likes for something more than just sex.
He even feels somewhat comfortable falling asleep in his own apartment without his blankie - the one time he and Andrew fucked on the couch and he fell asleep with Andrew collapsed on top of him; he was out like a light in an instant, not worried at all about not being able to sleep without it. Sleep just washed over him naturally, like a wave, and his fingers didn't twitch for the feel of the blanket against his skin; Andrew's own skin worked out nicely, warm againt his own.
There are days he still feels underconfident in their relationship - days he gets paranoid and worries Andrew will cheat on and/or leave him, and those days he takes refuge in his bed all day, clutching the blanket to his chest. It turns out to be a poor substitue for the comforting an the touching he'd gotten used to from Andrew, but it works all the same and Andrew tries his best not to feel jealous; he knows those days are once in a blue moon and Jesse would, at this point, more easily choose Andrew rather than the blanket when it comes to cuddling and comforting, and Andrew feels confident that one day it won't even be a question. One day, Andrew is sure, Jesse will stop needing the blankie altogether and will instead prefer to snuggle into Andrew, and Andrew, personally, looks forward to that day; even if it takes their whole lives.