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Description
Lying in bed, the heat of his own body warming him in the cool apartment bedroom. His fingers curled gently, gathering a small handful of the pillow case before he released it and slowly blinked awake. With a small yawn, he shrugged the old quilt onto his shoulder, shivering as he felt the fabric crawling across the bare skin of his back.

Tate lay there, feeling sore, but happier than he ever had been before. His pale eyes glanced around the room, seeing blurred colors and shapes, trying to make out a familiar human shape. His mind wandered to the night before, the feeling of ecstasy of finally being able to fully forget his trauma. The feeling of being so close to his lover that they were practically one person.

The door squeaked open and Tate looked blindly towards where the sound came from. He watched a dark shadow move into the room, shutting the door behind it, and slowly pulled the slipping blanket back up around his chest. The figure moved closer and began to take on a more recognizable shape, smiling down at Tate with a tray in his hand.

"Good morning, love," Phillipe whispered, leaning down to kiss the boy teasingly on the cheek. Tate giggled hoarsely and took in the strong aroma of the toast that was resting on the silver tray. Phillipe smiled and placed the plate on the side table, leaning over Tate and pressing his body against the smaller boy's frame.

Tate propped himself up on his elbows, leaning into the kiss that his professor had laid on his lips. After a moment of shifting around, he was able to run his thin fingers down the man's pale chest, feeling it as he had the night before. His fingertips gently traced the edges of the dark scars that covered his stomach and chest.

"Don't worry," he had said. Tate did worry, though, but he hadn't been able to question further. He didn't think he would be able to any time soon, either, as he wrapped his frail arms around the older male, pulling him closer to the bed. Phillipe pulled away from the kiss and chuckled.

"You're not ready to go again, are you?" he asked as he leaned down, nuzzling and nipping at the side of Tate's already bruised neck. The boy whined and scraped at Phillipe's back lightly.

"No," he stuttered, finally catching some breath. "I just don't want to ever be away from you." He looked up longingly into his boyfriend's soft eyes and leaned up for another gentle kiss.

Description
Lying in bed, the heat of his own body warming him in the cool apartment bedroom. His fingers curled gently, gathering a small handful of the pillow case before he released it and slowly blinked awake. With a small yawn, he shrugged the old quilt onto his shoulder, shivering as he felt the fabric crawling across the bare skin of his back.

Tate lay there, feeling sore, but happier than he ever had been before. His pale eyes glanced around the room, seeing blurred colors and shapes, trying to make out a familiar human shape. His mind wandered to the night before, the feeling of ecstasy of finally being able to fully forget his trauma. The feeling of being so close to his lover that they were practically one person.

The door squeaked open and Tate looked blindly towards where the sound came from. He watched a dark shadow move into the room, shutting the door behind it, and slowly pulled the slipping blanket back up around his chest. The figure moved closer and began to take on a more recognizable shape, smiling down at Tate with a tray in his hand.

"Good morning, love," Phillipe whispered, leaning down to kiss the boy teasingly on the cheek. Tate giggled hoarsely and took in the strong aroma of the toast that was resting on the silver tray. Phillipe smiled and placed the plate on the side table, leaning over Tate and pressing his body against the smaller boy's frame.

Tate propped himself up on his elbows, leaning into the kiss that his professor had laid on his lips. After a moment of shifting around, he was able to run his thin fingers down the man's pale chest, feeling it as he had the night before. His fingertips gently traced the edges of the dark scars that covered his stomach and chest.

"Don't worry," he had said. Tate did worry, though, but he hadn't been able to question further. He didn't think he would be able to any time soon, either, as he wrapped his frail arms around the older male, pulling him closer to the bed. Phillipe pulled away from the kiss and chuckled.

"You're not ready to go again, are you?" he asked as he leaned down, nuzzling and nipping at the side of Tate's already bruised neck. The boy whined and scraped at Phillipe's back lightly.

"No," he stuttered, finally catching some breath. "I just don't want to ever be away from you." He looked up longingly into his boyfriend's soft eyes and leaned up for another gentle kiss.