FEELINGS | Dream & Georgenotfound

Reassurance

The sensation of something warm made Clay, relaxed. It was comforting. It wrapped around most of his entire body. The light creeping through the window slowly brought him out of his sleep.

Then realization hit. Clay opened his eyes. He realized what was making him so warm and comfortable.

He turned is head. And there he was, laying right besides him. This feeling was perfect, it was all he ever wanted. George was still in the same position that he was in from last night. He was still holding Clay tightly. He felt George's breath run down his bare chest every time he breathed. The rising and lowering of George's chest against his side was rhythmic.

Clay moved his legs slightly and instantly froze in place. Clay was laying on his back looking at the ceiling with George laying on his side, wrapping his arms around Clay. Clay moved his leg again, and stopped. His face turned red. Something hard in George's shorts was pressing against Clays bare leg.

Holy shit.

Nothing could stop it at this point. George's ... thing was right up against him. Clay soon enough felt his own self grow harder in mere seconds. It grew so fast it peeped outside of his boxers.

Shit.

He quickly tucked it back inside his boxers, shutting his eyes trying to distract himself. God this can't be happening. Eventually George relaxed and so did Clay.

After sometime, having George wrapped around him didn't make him feel nervous or anxious. It felt like they were meant to be together like this. Although, something didn't sit well with Clay. He couldn't get rid of the image of George's terrified, teary, scared face out of his head. That was the least of it. Holding onto George's shaking body, and listening to his crying all night almost terrified him. He never experienced something like that before, especially from his best friend. What was wrong with George?

Clay felt like a shitty person. What the hell does "perfect" mean? What was perfect about this situation? George needed him and Clay took it as a "perfect situation" because he got some attention that he's been wanting from George. Clay grew angry at himself. Whatever he needed to do for George, he'd do it; no matter the cost.

Clay couldn't tell what time it was, he didn't want to reach over to get his phone and wake George up. He could see some of the sky peeking through the window. The sun barely made its way past the horizon, giving the sky a dim array of dark blues and pinks. He figured it was the best if he went back to sleep. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep for another couple of hours.

Soon enough, the bright sunlight lit up the room, waking him up. George was still in the same position. Clay yawned and looked outside the window. He felt George shuffle around in bed, then hearing him yawn. George quickly propped himself on the bed, catching Clay off guard.

"Hey, good morning." Clay almost whispered.

"Uh, hey." George sat on the edge of the bed, looking towards the door, away from Clay.

Clay looked at the back of George's head. "So, are you feeling better?"

"Yeah." George's tone was flat, something Clay wasn't used to hearing. Something was bothering him. Clay just didn't know what words to say.

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No." George's tone turned stern. Again, catching Clay off guard. There was a short moment of deafening silence. Clay noticed George griping onto the bed sheets. He became nervous, he needed to be careful with his words. He felt like he was walking on thin ice.

"George, you don't have to feel embarrassed about last night, I'm here if you want to talk about anything. I just want to make sure you're-"

"I don't wanna talk about it." George cut him off. Clay didn't know what to do at this point. Nothing seemed real.