James rubbed his face roughly; hands landing on the edge of the kitchen sink shortly after. His shoulders sagged with the tilt of his hips. It was a sleepless night – for whatever reason – and so, here he was. Seeing if the look of the moon out the window or the warmth of a hot drink might lull him to some type of rest. Green eyes pleaded with her now – that beautiful rock in the sky – for some guidance or explanation for his restlessness. None came though he appreciated the prettiness of her craters for a moment before flicking the sink’s faucet on.
Water rushed out and, if he were less tired, James might have been worried about making sound. Tonight – right now – he just wanted to see what some tea might do for him.
And so he filled the kettle, popped it on the stove top, and cranked the burner high.
Eyes glazing over, James idly scratched his stomach as he leaned back against the sink. He hadn’t bothered with modesty – clad in his undershirt and boxers – as he yawned. Steam from the kettle gathered bit by bit and signaled to James it was almost done. He gathered things as he always did – mug, spoon, sugar, tea bag. Milk would come after, of course.
The kettle was threatening a tantrum with little whistles and spits so James quickly flicked the burner off and moved the kettle along. He unceremoniously ripped open the tea bag, spooned in a couple guessed amounts of sugar, then doused it all with the near boiling water.
In about three to five minutes, he’d pray for relief.
However, as he resumed his lounge against the sink, he found surprise instead. Harry nearly scared him out of his skin by suddenly – to him – entering the kitchen. Hisses of surprise came from the two, partly from not expecting the other in the kitchen and partly from whoever started making sounds first.
Harry chuckled finally as they got their situation sorted.
“Sorry,” he offered, scratching the back of his somewhat messy head, “I thought I’d be the only one up at this hour.”
“N-no, it’s alright,” James rebutted, “Sorry to scare you.”
Harry let a little sound escape him – something between a sigh and a hum – as his hands landed on his hips.
“Looks like we both could use some help in the sleep department, huh?”
James offered a restrained, friendly chuckle, “I guess so…”
It hit James, then, how casual he was and warmth spread along his cheeks. It didn’t help that Harry was about the same – clad in only a loose t-shirt and boxer briefs that James noted were tighter than what he preferred. The change in mood didn’t go unnoticed as the author’s brow cocked.
“Some say that sleeping with someone in your bed can help.”
James’ eyes nearly bugged at that but he tried to catch himself and cleared his throat.
“I-is that right?”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the clock on the microwave then. James couldn’t help but follow along with the racing thought he was desperately trying to push aside.
Painful LED numbers read out: 3:21.
A.M., of course.
Harry then eyed the mug of tea left on the counter – somewhat far from where James leaned against the sink. He reached for it and James was about to move but it was pointless. The author had it in hand; extended to James, with a smile. He was irresistible.
“So they say.” he continued, “I guess the warmth helps, something about the contact – it’s been a while since I read about it, admittedly.”
James nodded slowly as he reached for the mug. Touch was inescapable in the pass off and James knew he was staring. How could he not?
He was tired, and lonely, and the thought of Harry tucked neatly against him did sound soothing. He felt the slight burn from the mug against his hand and dared to take a sip even though he knew it would hurt. Something about that made his eyes narrow and looked away from Harry.
His tongue and throat protested in their pain.
Harry had entered James’ space in their exchange, having stepped forward just enough – close but not too close. Not yet.
“Burn your tongue?” he asked.
James nodded, “Should have waited a bit.”
Harry hummed and shifted a little closer. James set the mug aside – feeling somewhat cornered though not in a way that spelled out fear. His heart beat faster.
“Sadly not the kind of thing you can kiss better, huh?”
James’ brain fizzled out on a reply. A quick and vague shrug filled the space. What were they doing right now…? Harry’s dark eyes were trained on James as he moved in a little closer, still. There must have been something about the moon tonight – that had to be it. Something in the air that was making this situation play out, something about the way Harry looked at him, something about how James wanted to look right back —
“You want to try…”
Harry’s words more statement than question though his feather-light tone lifted slightly with some uncertainty.
James nearly missed it with the way his pulse pounded in his ears.
He wanted to kiss Harry.
Badly.
The man turned his gaze aside, green eyes scanning the worn laminate floor as if it held an answer, though found none. His lips thinned then parted – working up the courage – before he was able to reply.
“I do.”
Harry’s dark eyes narrowed with his smile, loose strains of hair framing his face effortlessly in a way that was all his own. Anyone else would have been written off as messy, unkempt, not fit to be seen.
But not Harry.
He went through the world in a way that James could only describe as effortless.
Now was no different.
As he leaned in towards James, as he tilted his head slightly, as his lips placed a chaste kiss on the man’s. The connection caused goosebumps to erupt along James’ arms while the relentless flush on his skin crept anywhere it could manage. It was pleasant, it was torture, it was Harry, it was him.
He felt the sting of tears in his eyes as they finally closed.
A brief respite allowed Harry time to whisper.
“Kiss me.”
James complied.
They reconnected with purpose – lips firm and sure – Harry pressing himself against James fully with a sigh. His hands were as bold as his tongue; running up James’ sides before coming to rest atop his chest. Harry’s thin fingers splayed against the thin fabric of his undershirt sending diluted heat to his skin. The increase in heat made James’ eyes water more even behind closed lids and a tear escaped gently. Hot breaths nurtured the intensity with Harry’s tongue bridging the gap now – exploring and dancing along James in a way that made his head spin. How could he do something like this so effortlessly, too?
James’ eyes fluttered open when another natural break came. Both were breathing hard and James’ brows furrowed as he realized how much his body had reacted – a stiff ache pressed familiarly against his boxers and, in turn, Harry’s body. Harry definitely felt it with the way he rocked against James with his hip. The jolt made James swallow a sound that fueled Harry further. His movements were a bit more insistent and his hands traveled up to James’ chest again. The touches took some strength from James’ legs as his thighs tensed against the pressure. His back arched back from Harry’s advances – bracing himself against the sink edge not unlike what seemed mere moments before. Action and reaction spurred the author as he leaned up for another deep kiss.
“Nngh…”
James’ muffled moans were Harry’s to take as his fingers brushed stiffening nipples and his tongue roamed the other’s mouth. Whimpers and soft rustling filled the dimly lit kitchen, the moon bearing witness from the window just beyond. The tea had reached a perfect temperature at this point though neither would have known with their preoccupations.
“H-Harry…” James managed between soft gasps, “wait…”
The author’s brows were furrowed in pleasure-filled concentration and while he wanted to tease James more; he pulled away gently, fingers still idly brushing and rubbing the other’s chest.
“Yes…?” Harry whispered.
James gathered himself with the opportunity he made, clearing his throat and doing his best to straighten up. It was a challenge with how weak his legs felt and how stiff he’d become though he managed as Harry took some pressure off, too.
“I think…,” James began, “kissing made it a little better…”
A soft exhale left Harry’s lips and he seemed poised to continue though James held a hand between them – soft against Harry’s chest.
“Probably enough for one night?” Harry guessed with a hint of disappointment.
“Enough for the kitchen, maybe…” James replied before asking, “Should we take this somewhere else?”
He punctuated the question boldly his hand moving from Harry’s chest down – carefully – to the author’s crotch. His fingers ghosted along the tight band of the boxer briefs before settling down over the fabric to feel the outline of Harry’s own excitement. It was gratifying to hear Harry response now and the man’s dark eyes met James’. Their darkness was only made more lovely by how blown his pupils had become – the dim light and reflections from the moon allowing James to catch it for a moment.
“I’d like that,” Harry replied, pulling away with a smile, “Let’s see if what they say about sleep works, too.”
The tea on the counter was now cold.
Though—in its own way—it felt happy to have helped not one, but two men get some rest that night.
End.