run of the mill.

20th

Beyonce turned onto her back in the bed and looked around. She sighed and squeezed her legs together tightly. Nope, she thought, I still feel it. She glanced at the clock, 2:43 am.
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Beyonce huffed and turned back on her side to give it one more good try. She lay still for a moment and then suddenly drew her knees up to her chest and bit her lip.
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Shawn opened his eyes to the darkness and found that they were still just as well adjusted as they had been ten minutes ago when he closed them. He flung his arms behind his head and shook it slightly to rid himself of his compromising thoughts.
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Shawn stayed like that for a second and then lifted the cover and his pajama pants to inspect his progress. Damn, he thought dropping both fabrics, still fucking hard.
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Beyonce pushed her pillow between her legs and pointed her toes, praying at this point to any God that was listening to help her rid herself of the churning tingling just below the pit of her stomach. Good Lord, she thought biting a bundle of the covers, please help me.
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If I could just get it to go soft, I could go to fucking sleep, Shawn concluded with finality. He tried to think of things that were completely unattractive, like an old folks home. But his mind only offered him Beyonce in a nurses costume declaring that she was his medicine before she lowered herself into his lap and-.
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Shawn lifted the fabrics again and inspected his progress. "Fuck," he thought. And his head fell heavily back to his pillow. He glanced over at the time a prayed that it wouldn't be as late as his body felt it was. 2:43 a-fucking-m.

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Beyonce sat up and pushed her hands into her lap curling her toes in the plush carpet. The motion pushed her sizzling breasts together which proved to be another bad idea. So she opted for giving up that attempt to calm herself. She glanced around the dark room and let the moonlight, her new favorite friend, light the space. She spotted Shawn's letterman's jacket and crossed the room on jelly legs.
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She put it on, smelling him all over it. The crotch of her panties dampened at the first whiff of the man one door down the hall that was heavy on her mind. She wrapped the jacket tightly around her small frame.
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Shawn paced back and forth in his room, watching it bob and stand out in front of him demandingly. He had never seen himself like this. If he couldn't get any after that first lonesome hour his body was usually calling it a blue ball night and going soft. But not tonight. Tonight his body as really using its other head because, fuck bitches, it would not be deterred.
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Shawn sighed and stepped to his door, looking at the knob like it was teasing him. He turned his back to it. Hell no. This is my mama's house and I ain't sixteen no more. It's disrespectful, he finished... He peaked over his shoulder at the door for its opinion.
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Beyonce pushed her forehead against the cold wooden door and tried to calm her temperature down. She was burning up and she was almost positive it had nothing to do with the jacket she was clutching to.
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She exhaled slowly, afraid that her diaphragm would somehow push against her uterus and allow even more liquid from her. The clock and on nightstand said it was exactly 2:50 am. She sighed. And closed her eyes again, even though the metal of her doorknob was calling her.
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Shawn looked at the clock in the hall hanging over the staircase that read 2:49, he could feel it ticking away at his back. He slithered farther down the hall, not making a sound. He approached the door that seemed to look a lot brighter than the previous years he had seen it.
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The clock ticked away, letting him know that it was 2:50 am. He looked at the door again and wiped some sweat from his forehead before he grabbed the doorknob with the utmost sensitivity.
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He was here.
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Beyonce could feel him. She was so passionately anxious she could feel him. Her ears could hear his heartbeat through the door. Her forehead lifted silently and she looked at the wood like he could see her through it.
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Nothing had moved, no one had said anything, and yet she was willing to bet her life that Shawn was standing just behind the same door she was looking at.
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She was awake.
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He swore on his life he could hear her breathing just on the other side of the door. She was there, right in front of him, calling him and begging him to come inside. The doorknob, though it would have appeared cold metal to anyone else, was burning up in the palm of his hand because she was holding the other side.
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He was sure of it. Shawn put his hand against the door and closed his eyes momentarily. He had to relax or he would burst in that room and take her like he wanted to. God, how he wanted to.
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Beyonce put her hand against the door and exhaled. She could feel him right in front of her. The house was stone silent but she didn't care. She could feel him and she knew he was there.
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She inhaled.
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He exhaled.
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She gasped.
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He huffed.
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And they backed away from the door, each going back to their lonely begs. Shawn sleeping on his stomach and forcing himself to not think at all. His fingers digging into his own skin as he gripping his arm. He felt downright animalistic.
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Damn shame.
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Beyonce twisted and turned in the jacket that she had decided that she was going to sleep in. She lay on her back and pushed her legs tightly together until they were sore.
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God help me.