Sleepytime

by Jane Davitt




"Are you asleep, Lassie?"

"If I was, I'm not now," Carlton mumbled into the pillow. God, he was tired. So tired. And his bed was so soft and so…

"Wake up."

So occupied.

With an effort of will, Carlton pried up an eyelid and got a glimpse of Shawn. What bit he could see was free of clothing, lightly splattered with water, and smelled fragrant and clean. At any other time, he'd have hauled Shawn closer, complained about the way Shawn never took the time to towel dry properly, and licked off any droplets in interesting locations. By now, he knew a few places on Shawn where his tongue, teeth, or a fingernail could produce gratifyingly incoherent babbling.

Tonight, he just wanted to sleep and he didn't care if Shawn was dripping on the sheets. They'd seen worse than clean water in recent months.

"In the morning, Shawn. Anything you like in the morning. Just not now." It emerged as a pitiful whine, but Jesus, he was exhausted. Two nights without sleep. The room was spinning and he wasn't sure he was making any sense. He'd just turned down sex with Shawn, which proved it, but it wasn't as if he were capable of arousal. His body had shut down, gone on strike. He couldn't feel his toes and his dick was just…there.

"You said when you finished the double-double shift, you'd fuck me through the bed and make me howl at the moon."

"No, you said that on the phone, and I was surrounded by people so I couldn't argue with you."

"You hung up on me," Shawn said, a pout audible enough that Carlton didn't need to see it to know it was there, making Shawn's lips look in need of a kiss to straighten them out.

Yes, he'd hung up -- and found a quiet corner a while later, called Shawn, and hissed, "Fine, just don't plan on being able to walk when I'm done with you. Happy now?"

The memory of Shawn's purr of satisfaction had stayed with him for hours.

"So you're here, I'm here, the bed's here --"

"I am tired," Carlton snarled with zero force behind it, spacing the words out. God, it was like talking to a toddler. "I'm sorry if that's a problem, but --"

"That's not a problem," Shawn said. "This is a problem."

Carlton's hand was dragged down to Shawn's dick, his hard, hot dick. His fingers curled around it automatically, but even that took a toll on him. If he were a computer, he'd be crashing right now, screens freezing up all over the place.

"I started the party in the shower," Shawn said in a tense, aggravated tone of voice. "I knew you were tired, so I thought I'd cut out all the foreplay --"

"Look, just jerk off or something," Carlton pleaded, moving his face out of a patch of drool left over from his brief doze when Shawn was showering. He should've given in and passed out, but he'd hung on, wanting to know that Shawn was close by first. Being romantic was clearly a big mistake. He made a mental note to avoid it in future.

"I've been doing that all week," Shawn said. Carlton started to add days in his head and yeah, there had been about six of them since the last time he and Shawn were naked in the same room. "Gus flinches every time I go to the bathroom, even when it's for perfectly legitimate reasons."

"You tell Gus when you -- never mind. Of course you do." Carlton wasn't looking at damp, naked, very erect Shawn any more, just the blissful darkness behind his eyes. Shawn's voice was coming from so far away, Alaska, maybe, or no, Hawaii. Shawn would like Hawaii. All those pineapples. He should go there and Carlton told him so. Palm trees, hips shaking, grass skirts…Shawn would look good in a grass skirt…

A finger poked him in the ribs, halting the tumbling chaos of his thoughts. "Did you just tell me to go to hell?"

"H'wi," Carlton mumbled drowsily."Not hell. Ow."

Shawn made a put-upon huffing sound. "Fine. I'll jerk off. I'll abuse myself and go blind, and then I won't be able to see what a selfish --" His voice broke off when Carlton made a protesting murmur at that blatant unfairness, then softened to a buzz in Carlton's ear. "Listen to me being a grumpy-pants boyfriend when you've been keeping the streets of the city safe. I suck. I'm pond scum. But I'm going to make it up to you. Separate pizzas so the pineapple juice doesn't leak onto your half. No more dissing the ties you wear. A total lack of singing in the shower for, ooh, a week, at least."

Carlton had been able to drowse through Shawn being an asshole -- he'd had practice -- but contrition sent a final spurt of adrenaline through him. Shawn didn't apologize, he distracted and charmed. Carlton turned his head, opened his eyes, and studied Shawn suspiciously.

"You need pampering," Shawn cooed.

"Need sleep," Carlton clarified hopefully.

"But if you were awake, you'd want to do naughty things to my lusciously appealing, scrubbed squeaky clean body, right?"

"T'morrow," Carlton said with a long sigh and let his head meet the pillow again. "I'll do them tomorrow."

Shawn ignored him. "And you hate the thought of me suffering all this pent-up lust -- and trust me, I'm suffering."

A hard-on qualified as torture now? "Poor Shawn," Carlton agreed. The sarcasm got lost in a yawn.

"So, if you weren't super-sized exhausted, you'd really, really want me -- us -- to have sex," Shawn continued thoughtfully, "and a good boyfriend, a considerate, kind one, the sort you deserve, my Lassieberry Shortcake, would find a way to make that happen since it's totally what you want."

Carlton lost a few seconds enduring another yawn, the jaw-breaking kind, and came back to an awareness of the room to hear Shawn say, "So you don't mind if I use you to get off? Just…incorporate you into the whole getting rid of the Shawn-boner operation? Okay, bad word choice. Ouch. I'll be really quiet. You won't know I'm here. You can even fall asleep if you like, I won't be offended. Much."

Carlton frowned in confusion, complete and utter, and then got it when Shawn edged close and rubbed the head of his cock tentatively against Carlton's thigh, his breath warm on Carlton's face. Indignation at the thought of being used as a living blow-up doll boiled up and he opened his mouth to protest.

What came out was a whimper as Shawn moved to straddle him, his dick fitting neatly into the groove of Carlton's ass, his body a warm, light blanket over Carlton's back.

It felt good. It wasn't arousing, exactly, but comforting. Carlton had never liked sleeping without something covering him and Shawn was so damned snuggly…

"Can I?" Shawn begged, already doing it, shamelessly anticipating permission, already sliding his dick up and down, restless twitches of his hips driving the movement. "Please, Lassie. I don't want to fly solo again. I've missed you. I'm jonesing for a Lassie-fix. Let's do this together."

Carlton considered the request with what was left of his sleep-deprived mind. What the hell. If Shawn got off, he'd fall asleep soon after, he always did. If Shawn fell asleep, he'd shut up. Maybe. Probably. Being reduced to a sex object seemed like a small price to pay for an outcome that rosy. Speech was beyond him, but Carlton nodded his head and grunted something that he hoped that Shawn would take for assent. From somewhere, he found the energy to reach back and pat Shawn's leg.

"God, you're the best," Shawn said fervently. "When you wake up, I'm going to be such a good boy for you."

Shawn didn't define that word the way Carlton did. Shawn meant that he'd be totally down with fulfilling every filthy depraved sexual fantasy Carlton had. To date, he hadn't come up with any, which was embarrassing on many levels, but it was good to know that if he ever did advance beyond a stuttered request for Shawn to talk dirty to him (that was redundant given the fact that Shawn already was), he'd be met with wholehearted approval not disgust. Some of the suggestions Shawn had waved in front of him as possibilities had left Carlton reeling with shock that Shawn had even heard of them, let alone was prepared to do them.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Shawn was bluffing. Someday, Carlton planned to come up with a fictitious list of kinks and watch Shawn go pale when he read them out.

Shawn groaned, deep and passionate, a sound lusty enough to make Carlton wish that he wasn't three-quarters asleep. It occurred to him in a dreamy, distant way, that in a few minutes, Shawn was going to come on him. Deliberately. A come-splattered stomach or wet hand from jerking Shawn off in the morning, the two of them sandwiched together, lips kissing, legs entwined was one thing, but this would be different. Carlton wondered if it would make him feel depraved and used and what Shawn would look like afterwards, staring down at a creamy line of spunk against Carlton's skin that would need to be cleaned up.

Shawn shifted, moved away, leaving Carlton shivering, bereft. Shawn's hand came back to press against his shoulder reassuringly. "Need lube," Shawn whispered. "Friction burns."

"Mmm," Carlton sighed. He didn't care. Lube would slick things up, send Shawn shooting toward the finish line. Lube was good. Bring on the lube.

Shawn spilled it or squeezed the bottle too hard or something. Carlton yelped as a cool trickle of liquid landed on his ass and ran inside, finding a path between his cheeks without any difficulty at all.

"Oops?"

"Shawn --"

"Go back to sleep," Shawn whispered and this time the pat was a splat. "All under control, and God, Lassie, we're doing this again when you're awake because you're just -- all laid out here, all mine. Love it. Major love. You've got the sexiest ass. If it wasn't kind of slimy, I'd bite it all over."

Shawn went non-verbal after that, riding Carlton's ass, surfing on a sea of lube. It was easy to get into the rhythm and Carlton, passive through exhaustion as he was, couldn't help lifting up, just an inch, to meet the next see-sawing glide. Big mistake. The head of Shawn's dick struck skin, slid down, pushed against Carlton's hole.

Shawn froze, moaned, and Carlton yelped again.

He didn't -- never had -- didn't want to --

"Sorry, sorry" Shawn said in a strangled murmur. "Didn't mean to, but, Lassie, oh God, I want to --"

Shawn eased his dick away to rest, hot and quivering, against Carlton's leg.

Silence fell, but there was a question filling it that Carlton knew Shawn wouldn't ask. They'd never discussed this. Shawn had accepted the fact that he'd be the one to get fucked without complaint -- not surprising since he loved it -- and Carlton had felt relief that he wasn't being asked to do something that he didn't want to try.

He really didn't want to do this. He didn't. It would change things. Shawn might like it, might never again want to lie under Carlton, staring blindly up, his face contorted so beautifully, urging Carlton on. Carlton was under no illusions about his inability to deny Shawn anything when they were in bed together. He was a pushover and his credit card bill proved it. It read like a piece of porn these days. Buying…gifts for Shawn online was addictive. Buying them with Shawn hanging over him making comments was always followed by sex, frenzied, fast, sex that left Carlton blushing for hours once he'd recovered from the high.

That fleeting push of Shawn's dick though…Even exhausted, Carlton had felt arousal dart through him, felt bee-stung, burning up with fever. His dick had throbbed, stirred sluggishly, and he'd seen stars. As with everything connected with Shawn, he'd seen the possibilities open up.

Shawn leaned down and kissed Carlton's shoulder, kissed it as if he had to do something while he waited for Carlton's answer, desperate, rapid kisses, frantic, turned-on, while the rest of his body lay resolutely immobile.

Shawn was being good by Carlton's definition for once.

Carlton closed his eyes, resigned to the inevitable. "Condom," he said as clearly as possible through a closing throat. "You need a --"

A foil square, the end ripped off, empty and hollow, landed on the pillow beside Carlton. He blinked at it hazily. It was one of his.

"You don't have to do anything," Shawn assured him. "Honestly. I'm going to do all the heavy lifting."

Carlton opened his mouth to retract everything he'd said -- not said -- and heard a gasp emerge instead. Shawn's finger had slid inside him, along with another generous dollop of lube, cool and shiver-inducing and now he knew why Shawn made that identical gasping sound when he took Carlton's finger deep.

"Feels good, hmm?" Shawn murmured, more kisses following, scattered over Carlton's back, sweet and quick while Shawn's fingers, two now, moved and pressed and opened Carlton up.

He's done this before.

The thought troubled Carlton rather than reassuring him. He should be glad that Shawn's fingers were deft and that Shawn's customary confidence wasn't deserting him, but the implications…

If Shawn had done this before often enough to be good at it, then he must have liked doing it. Shawn didn't do anything that he didn't want to, a subversive freedom that Carlton genuinely disapproved of.

Shawn had deliberately gone without something he wanted to please Carlton and Carlton didn't know why and couldn't make his tired brain work properly to figure it out.

"Lift up," Shawn said into his ear, biting at it gently. Muzzily, obediently, Carlton made room for a pillow beneath him, lifting his ass the bare minimum required to make it easier for Shawn to --

Oh God. A dick was bigger than a finger. Much bigger. It hurt. Not as much as he'd expected and Shawn waited patiently through the groan of warning he gave, but it was enough to make Carlton tense up.

"Don't do that, Lassie," Shawn said, coaxing fingers warm on the back of Carlton's neck, massaging it as if getting rid of the tension there would unclench Carlton's ass. "My dick comes in peace, I swear. Don't be the kind of superpower who fires on the alien spaceship. You know that ends with the earth being destroyed and I can't be annihilated not knowing who wins Project Runway."

Despite himself, Carlton smiled and felt Shawn gain more ground, easing in, inch by inch, a series of advances and retreats, aided by enough lube to service an orgy. Sweet shocks of pleasure sent sparks through him, sizzling bursts of arousal, strong enough to pierce the fog of weariness he was drowning in.

Behind him, Shawn was telling him how tight he was, how good he felt, lavish compliments directed at his ass as if right then it was all that existed for Shawn. Carlton felt the same way about Shawn's dick, so he wasn't in any place to throw stones.

Even through his body assuring him that this was better than good, he knew he'd feel differently tomorrow. He was going to be sore, wince when he sat down, curse Shawn's name when he took a shit. Consequences were going to arrive, bags packed for a long stay. It didn't matter. Shawn's ass took a regular pounding from Carlton and he kept coming back for more and now Carlton knew why.

It was worth it for the feeling of being taken, every long, deep thrust from Shawn telling Carlton just how much Shawn was enjoying himself, even if Shawn's mouth wasn't. He pictured Shawn gagged, arms tied behind him, fucking Carlton silently, eagerly as Carlton held himself open, directing proceedings, a jangling mix of messages he couldn't interpret. Did he want control even when he was lying face down getting fucked -- or did he know that it lay with Shawn, always had, always would and he was fighting that knowledge?

It didn't matter because it was almost over. Shawn was sweating, moaning, his hands hurting Carlton in small, forgivable ways, his exhaled breath a harsh, raw sound. Shawn was never as honest as in the moment before climax, every artifice stripped away. Carlton wished that he could see him. Maybe next time he'd get Shawn to fuck him on his back so that he could.

Next time.

He still wasn't hard, not really, all his arousal in his head, a waking wet-dream, but he knew he'd ask for this again and something told him that Shawn would give it to him, had maybe been getting tired of waiting for him to ask.

Shawn came, pulled out with the same careful competence he'd shown throughout, and Carlton submitted to being wiped clean with a shiver, turned on by his helplessness and his submission in a way he didn't want to examine too closely. He'd let Shawn feed him popcorn one night, too, lying with his head in Shawn's lap, tired and content. It'd felt good, but if he'd thought about it before doing it, he'd have been the one pulling Shawn down to lie supine and be played with, his hair caressed, his butter-shiny lips kissed.

He didn't want to have issues and kinks. Shawn was enough novelty in his life. God, he was so tired…

He felt himself turned to his side and the pillow removed. The lube-soaked wad of tissues Shawn was using brushed against the soft curl of his cock and then disappeared.

"Dude, you didn't -- You didn't like it?"

The disappointment was expected; the distress was a surprise, as was discovering that Shawn had never expected him to remain passively uninvolved no matter how tired he was.

He rolled to his back, ignoring the throb deep and hot, in his ass and met Shawn's eyes. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to.

"Oh!" Shawn said, and smiled so wide and bright that Carlton closed his eyes in self-defense. Darkness caught at him, the room fading, but he still heard Shawn say, "See? You learned a new trick. Good boy, Lassie."

He fell asleep before his righteous indignation could find words; Shawn curled around him, snoring softly, when he woke.


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