By the time Drew came to bed, I'd passed out cold, but I woke up sometime later, too late for nighttime but far too early for morning.
The very faintest gleam of pale dawn crept around the edges of the blinds.
And Drew lay beside me on his back, a few inches from where I'd curled up on my side around a pillow, with the blankets and his boxers pulled down to his thighs and his hand working his rigid cock.
He turned his head a little the second I opened my eyes, somehow knowing I'd woken almost before I did.
"Ash, go back to sleep," he panted. "Fuck. Don't move, okay? Don't move. Let me finish. If I can finish, maybe I won't…"
Of course, he didn't finish his sentence, trailing off into harsh, rasping breaths. Hopefully he masturbated better than he communicated.
