SyndiSparklez Book of Rambles and One-Shots

Waking Up Jordan

¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Enjoy whatever the heck this is, beans.

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Tom licked his lips, which had become dry with all of the alcohol he had consumed. He needed the drink in order to suppress what was left of his better judgement that night, or else he was certain he would flake.

Biting his cheek, Tom placed the beer bottle gingerly on the glass nightstand beside him. He pushed himself up from the couch and slowly advanced towards the staircase, where his target lie sleeping. Taking a breath, he padded up the stairs and paused near the top.

He could hear voices coming from the den just feet away from where he stood. Could his target be awake? Tom shifted onto one foot and attempted to peer above the railing, but to no avail. He silently cursed his height.

Tom tapped his middle finger against the railing. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Rhythmic. Gentle. Controlled. Everything Tom disliked, all provided by none other than himself. His chest joined in on the tapping, and muffled pounding surged through his ears. He swore again and stepped up a stair.

"Come on, Tom. Grow a pair and maybe you'll be lucky enough to see his one day," he hissed to himself. He snickered quietly at his own joke before stepping up again.

One more step.

Another.

Another after that.

He was suddenly at the top of the staircase, peeking at his prey who was situated on the couch in front of a television. Some crappy midnight talk show was playing. Tom could hear the host rambling on about some celebrity's death whose name he didn't recognize.

"If this doesn't work, I might as well join that guy." Tom sucked in a breath and dropped to his hands and knees. He began to crawl towards the sofa, feeling with his hands for squeaky boards. Approaching the couch without a struggle, he sighed.

Tom peeked out from behind the couch and grinned as he was met with the back of his prey's head, which was tossed carelessly to the side and unmoving. A small quiff of fluffy dark hair was perched neatly on the top. He felt the urge to run his hands through it, but he silenced the thought with another; good things come to those who wait. A smile stretched across his face. But even better things come to those who will just get up and do it themselves.

He dropped back down to all fours and sneaked around the side, again poking his head out to spectate.

The man was sprawled across the couch, head on one end and feet on the other. He was shirtless and in boxers. The white words speckled across them glowed with the light from the television: "Do I Got The Booty?" Tom stifled a laugh. Damn right Jordan had the booty. His eyes wandered up his friend's body, stopping at his toned stomach for a second before trailing up to his face.

Gentle puffs of breath escaped Jordan's lips, which were parted slightly. Tom silently thanked the gods that Jordan was asleep. It only made his plan easier.

He shuffled up and pushed himself to be at eye-level with Jordan's head, which was propped against the back of the couch. His lashes fell delicately against his cheeks. Tom hummed, bringing a hand up and brushing it over Jordan's forehead.

Now was his chance. His heart skipped a beat out of sheer excitement as he tossed a leg over his friend and straddled him. Tom positioned himself on Jordan's hips, being careful not to touch anything personal - yet. He wiggled on his new seat. Jordan certainly was comfy.