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It wasn’t intentional, it just happened. James drifts awake, he stirs, but he doesn’t open his eyes, not just yet. He doesn’t want to, his eyes will hurt, like they do when he washes his hair .
There is no point in opening his eyes. He knows it’s still dark outside, still early, too early to be awake, he knows it, that feeling deep in his stomach, his brain hardly functioning, dipped in sticky idleness, telling him it’s not the right moment yet, there’s still time for slumber , go back to dreaming now, there’s plenty of time left. And he plans on doing just that.
Except something shifts. Sheets ruffle, soft blankets are being moved , gently, in the dark. James hears that, through his comatose haze. He didn’t hear the birds chirping outside, or the rattling noise of the radiator. That wasn’t what caught his senses, he didn’t care about the birds.
He can’t care about the birds now. He remembers where he is. He is in a room, the room he shares with Ed. In this room are two beds, reasonably far away from one another . Now James feels like Ed is right behind him, which makes his cheeks burn, which is strange, since Ed is panting softly, gently, almost soundlessly i f it wasn’t for the few breathless whimpers James could hear.
James feels weird. His eyes are open now, burning holes in the wall he’s facing. If you asked him, before now, what he would have done if he heard his friend clearly masturbating beside him, he would have laughed.
He doesn’t want to laugh. That’s why he feels weird.
His cheeks are hot and he doesn’t want to laugh. He wants to bury his head in the pillow and scream. He wants to turn around, look at Ed, h is eyes are probably closed anyway. James could turn around, stare at Ed instead of the ageing wall.
James hears a muffled sound, he almost jumps out of his skin. He could turn around. Maybe Ed has a hand covering his mouth, while the other is moving with purpose beneath the sheets, up and down, up and down, shifting the soft fabric of the thin blankets, lifting them, soiling them. Maybe Ed has his brows furrowed, focused on not making any noise, he doesn’t want to wake James, because Ed is considerate like that, but he’s doing a very bad job of it, because James hears everything. James could perhaps even hear the slick sounds Ed hand is making, below the sheets, if he wanted to, but his head is about to explode, his pulse is too loud in his ears and his temples are trembling.
James shouldn’t want to turn around. He shouldn’t be awake, he shouldn’t be listening, he shouldn’t be hot all over and he certainly shouldn’t be hard. He absolutely wasn’t when he woke up, but he is now, no denying that.
James is so ashamed he could die on the spot. He is still facing the wall, eyes firmly shut, because he believes if he shut them hard enough he will eventually go deaf. That doesn’t work, he hears another moan instead and everything hurts. James can’t breathe, air has been kicked out of his lungs but he cannot possibly suck enough air without drawing any attention on him. So he simply lies there, waiting to faint. That doesn’t work either.
A gasp of air. The more James hears Ed, the more his brain provides him with mental pictures and he doesn’t want them. He wants to sleep. James opens his eyes, but the images won’t go away, his brain is insistent. James feels guilty, beause he likes that.
Ed groans and James mouths fuck . His thoughts are going wild. Could he make Ed sound like that? Breathless and grunting? If he was on his knees and he looked up, would they lock eyes? Would Ed thrust in his mouth, call him a good boy and make him gag? James wants that. He would very much like to feel Ed’s hand tugging at his scalp and say things that make him blush, call him filthy names. James should not be thinking about this.
First, he completely invaded Ed’s privacy and now he was thinking about how great sucking his cock would be. Fuck.
James hears another wettish sigh and he almost swears out loud. He bites his lip because Jesus Christ how long is this taking? James feels like he’s been awake for three hours listening to Ed and if he has to witness him wanking for any longer he swears he’s gonna go insane. There’s a blood vessel in his brain ready to burst at the very next sound he hears.
But just before James has the chance to die, everything stills, there’s a tense atmosphere in the room that puts a complete stop to James’s already obstructed breathing.
He doesn’t move, he doesn’t breathe, he just waits. Then, some more ruffling, the bed creaking. Ed is getting up, padding around the room, the door opens, Ed gets out.
James waits a little more. Just a few more seconds.
There. James is now taking in deep breaths, he is nearly wheezing. He hurts, everywhere the blanket is touching is skin hurts, he feels the warmth of the room, hears the heater, and he is so horny it almost makes him angry, he focuses on his respiration. In, out. In, out. In, out, back and forth and back and fuck . He wants to touch himself, just like Ed did, just now, for all the wrong reasons. He knows he wouldn’t last long, he just has to think about Ed coming back in here and using his fingers in all the right places, in and out, in and out and back and forth, until James is squirming and smothering himself with his pillow from how hard he buries his head in the soft feathers.
He can’t do that though, because he is aware of how wrong this whole situation is. How fucked up he is. James hates himself for liking it, he hates himself for even thinking about getting of to his best friend getting off, trying his best not to wake James up, unaware that James was very much awake and anxiously relishing on every unintentional sounds he made.
While James was thinking about sinking in his mattress, is respiration eventually steadied.
Ed is still not coming back, and James is thankful. He can still try to sleep, through the guilt. There’s at least four more hours of night-time to go, and even if tiredness is coming in great waves over him, he feels like he’s about to drown.
He closes his eyes, he feels cold. His own mind acting as a cold shower and obliterating any other unorthodox thought that might cross his guilt-fed brain again. He turns around, opens his eyes, Ed is gone, the moon is still high in the sky, it’s mocking him. James sighs.
He hears Ed coming back, and he panics a little. What if he notices James moved? James hears his footsteps go though the door to the other bed. He hears Ed sit down.
Ed just sits down. James knows he’s not lying down, because he doesn’t hear the blankets being lifted, or the bed creaking lightly, or the stupid sound Ed makes when he lies down every single time, the sort of mild grunt of satisfaction that has absolutely no sexual undertone and always reminds James of an old man sitting down. James has to stop himself from smiling. It’s a funny sound.
But Ed is still not lying down. James vaguely wonders if he is on his phone, but if he was, James could hear his fingers gently tapping the screen. He doesn’t hear anything apart from his own breathing (is he breathing too loud?) and his heartbeat, now faint. Maybe James could open his eyes, just a slit, he’s always been good at that. But he’s scared.
He does it anyway, just a second, he looks at Ed and he regrets it immediately. Ed was looking at him. James closed his eyes but that was enough for him to completely lose his shit. He wonders if Ed saw him but apparently not. James is still very much terrified. In fact, he is sweating, which is not so great. He feels self-conscious now. He tries to make his breathing as even as humanly possible. In, ou- No, not that, fuck.
He feels Ed’s stare. He swears he can feel it, travelling from one of his eye to another, to his neck and back and he wonders if he’s blushing, because is feels hot again. He wants to open his eyes and look at Ed and maybe join him on his bed and spend the rest of the night kissing him senseless until they both can’t think any more.
He can’t do that though.
Ed’s bed creaks, Ed grunts, James has to stop himself from pissing his bed and it’s silent and calm again.
James’s skin is sensitive, he feels it overheating. James turns around again, facing the wall, damn Ed, he’s having an emotional crisis, he deserves to look at the wall.
The wall is mocking him, it formed an alliance with the mood. Fucking prick.
James is fucked and he hopes that when he goes back to sleep, he will never open his eyes again.