Crashing
    By Gen X


    Nothing is simple.

    It's going to be the ongoing theme with them. Maybe, soon, they'll get to the level of comfort where there is no hesitation or second guessing. Right now, no one wants to assume. Especially not Orlando.

    His bed is big enough. That's a fact. A nice full bed, with bare minimum of pillows. Soft mattress, complete with the matching box spring. Furnished apartments kick ass. They really do. It's more comfortable than the couch.

    He wants to tell Karl that, but doesn't know what his reaction would be. It seems silly not to. The slow barrier has been shot to hell, at least in Orlando's eyes. He'll be incredibly shocked and slightly offended if Karl doesn't think so as well. The last he checked oral sex was still sex. And sex is not slow. Sex involves involvement, and in this case, demands commitment. Or at very least active participation.

    So why is he nervous about the sleeping situation? It's stupid, and he realizes it, but it seems so hard to bring up the subject. It's dark outside, its past night but not quite morning. Miles to go before dawn and he can't seem to walk the twenty feet to his bedroom. Karl's in the bathroom, and Orlando is standing there worrying about when he comes out.

    Orlando can't even play off the sleepy, crash anywhere thing, because he's now awake, had a good nap nestled in Karl's lap. He hears the toilet flush and the bathroom door opens, faint light spilling into the hallway.

    He wonders how he's going to broach the subject but then he gets an epiphany. Be direct. What a concept. The whole worrying thing is really ridiculous. Completely. Utterly. If Orlando's going to be assertive, than damn it, he's going to be assertive and hence Karl's going to sleep in his bed. There will be no more of this wishy-washy. Now, if anything, they should both be on common ground. And if for some reason Karl's not... then the boy has issues. That's all there is to it.

    Karl steps out into the hallway, yawns, and stretches.

    Orlando's watching shamelessly, quite like the cat that's got the canary. What a fine little bird too.

    "Tired?" he questions.

    Karl yawns again.

    Orlando smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."

    *fin*

    ~story index~