For Research Purposes | ✔

CHAPTER SEVEN

     Sam wakes up and nearly rolls off of Sage's couch. Forgets and then remembers with lethal acuity where he is and the night's events.

     He sits up stiltedly, looking down at his lap where he can almost see the massive wood he's toting. Sam's a bit affronted. Okay, he's completely affronted because he rarely gets morning wood. His dreams don't do it for him, apparently. Actually, not much does. He has to be very intentional to get himself in the mood. So this is unprecedented.

     He glances around the loft. He can see the shape of Sage in his bed. There's a door near his bed, which is probably the bathroom. But then there's a door by the kitchen, which could also be the bathroom.

     If Sage's apartment is designed like Sam's, though, the bathroom is near his bed. Sam thinks long and hard (very hard) about how he can get into that bathroom without waking Sage. He has heavy feet, so it's risky. Maybe too risky. He wonders if he could survive Sage seeing him with an erection. It's the morning, it's natural. Sage is a dude, he'd get it, but still. It's an embarrassment he doesn't think he'd be able to live down. He certainly wouldn't be able to work with Sage anymore.

     Sam doesn't consider himself sexually reserved, or perverse, doesn't really consider himself sexually at all. If it were anybody else, maybe it wouldn't matter.

     He lies there for a moment, trying to think his dick flaccid. This is something ridiculous. He's never had this problem before. He half-wonders if Sage didn't slip him a viagra as a practical joke.

     Nothing changes and it's getting uncomfortable to sit like this. He has to chance it to the bathroom. Once he pees, everything should be fine.

     Sam throws back the blanket and gawks down at himself. He's literally tenting in Sage's sweatpants. This is awful. This is the worst case scenario of his entire life.

     With his hands pressing himself down as much as he can, he waddles towards the bathroom door, moving so slow and so careful the short distance is covered in double the amount of time it should take.

     He spares a glance at Sage's sleeping form. He's knocked out, sleeping on his stomach and evidently shirtless. Fuck if that's not helping Sam's situation at all.

     The blankets fall around the small of his back, revealing shoulders and spine to Sam. Broad shoulders. Objectively nice shoulders. His one arm is up and bent on the pillow. Sage isn't huge but he's lean so what little muscle he has is very visible, and he has the perfect tear-drop above his bicep.

     Sam gets to the bathroom and eases the door shut carefully behind him. His reflection in the mirror is flushed, his cheeks nearly bright red. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. He made it. Crisis averted. Now he just has to pee and boner be gone.

     Except. Boner not be gone, boner refuse to be gone. Sam can't even get himself to pee. He stands at the toilet, at attention, thinking of waterfalls and rivers, even going as far as sticking his hand under the running tap, but it's a lost cause. His dick is absolutely refusing to cooperate.

     He's so hard now his dick's starting to look purple. He glances at the sink. It's built into the counter with enough space for Sam to climb up on it. If he turns the shower on, it may wake Sage and Sage will wonder why he ran the shower and didn't actually shower or why he was even trying to shower in his apartment in the first place.

     His only option is the sink. Sam steps out of Sage's sweatpants and then pulls the sweatshirt off too so he doesn't get water on it. Completely naked, he climbs up onto the counter. His knees press into the ceramic top that is startlingly cool but not cool enough to provide any relief. The water's running cold and he re-positions himself so he's lying down and his dicks in the sink.