I&P ♔ bowers gang [1]

IMAGINE ♔ henry bowers

TITLE: dreams into reality
WORDCOUNT: 1842
WARNING: nsfw/smut

• • • • •

I walked back into my bedroom, a glass of ice-cold water in my hand for Henry. I let out a sigh when I saw that he was already passed out on my bed, sprawled out with a hand hanging down. His red muscle shirt was pulled up on his chest and his pants were unbuckled, but still hung around his waist loosely. Henry had attempted to undress himself while I was downstairs, but was too drunk to do so and instead had ended up falling asleep.

My best friend had came over to my house around 2:30 in the morning, drunk out of his mind. I suspected that his dad had gone off on him and he had run out of the house to try and drink the pain away, then came to my house like he usually did after fights with his dad.

I set the glass down on the nightstand, then walked over to the bed. Grabbing the hem of Henry's shirt, I slipped it over his head. It didn't bother me, undressing him, anymore since I've done it more times than I can count on both of my hands after he got shit-faced and I'm the only one there to take care of him. The other guys sure as hell couldn't ever do it, since they're always in the same state as Henry or not around at all.

Leaving his pants on, I grabbed a throw blanket from the foot of my bed and put it over him (since he was too heavy for me to pick up and put under the actual duvet). Knowing I wasn't going to be able to actually go back to sleep, I sat down on the floor with my back against the side of the bed and grabbed the current book I was reading off the nightstand.

Fifteen pages in, I was interrupted by the bed-springs creaking as they bounced up and down. I turned around to peek over the edge of the bed. Henry had thrown the blanket off of him so that his bare chest was exposed to the cool room air, and his skin was tinted a light shade of red. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of his face. Thinking he just over-heated, I turned back toward my book.

That is until I heard a muffled and quiet moan echo throughout the room. My head snapped back to Henry. Studying him closer than earlier, I noticed how his hands were balled into fists clenching the duvet in between them and how his eyes were tightly closed, his face distorted. Feeling slightly guilty for doing this, I moved my eyes down to his lower region.

As I suspected, a tent was pitched in his jeans. I blushed and looked down at the bed, holding back a giggle by biting down on my lip. Henry was having a wet dream. He let out another silent groan, and I couldn't help but look back up at his face. A thought crossed my mind and my heart pinched inside my chest. Wonder who he's dreaming about? Probably Gretta or one of her minions, the boys are always talking about how hot they are.

I couldn't help but feel jealous. I've liked this boy for so long that it didn't even feel like a little school girl crush anymore. It was something more than that. I've always told myself he didn't feel the same way, because he's never acted that way towards me.

I let out a loud sigh and turned back toward the book, feeling envy tug at my gut. As much as I wanted to wake him up so he would get whatever bitch he's thinking about out of his head, I knew if I did that he'd probably be in such a fit. Pissy Henry is not a Henry you wanna mess with.

I tried to focus back on the book, my eyes locking on the words, but not really paying attention to them. Not able to take it anymore, I turn back around just in time to see Henry shift around and let out another soft moan. His chest heaved up and down in uneven breaths, with his head rocking back and forth lightly. That's when he mumbled some name, but I couldn't hear it quite well. I leaned forward, turning my head so that my ear was closer to his lips.