Working Stiff (manxboy)

Chapter 17: I Dislike Sloppy Services

Joseph

Something brushed my torso, pressing itself against my body. Instinctively, I moved to embrace it, pulling whatever it was closer to me. I didn't remember owning an extra pillow or bolster, but if this was what it felt like, I should really consider getting one.

So what exactly was I hugging at the moment? A good question. One that I couldn't care less about. Everything was just so comfortable and I was too lazy to open my eyes.

I tilted to my side. My hands trailed upward, coming to a stop when it met with a bundle of soft hair. It even carried a mild scent of the shampoo I owned. I leaned closer, breathing in a mouthful of fresh eucalyptus.

I sighed.

It had been so long since somebody shared the bed with me. The closeness, the warmth. The fresh scent of essential oils. I brought our bodies closer. My hands slid down the waistline, exploring every part of exposed skin along the way.

That was some smooth skin. And why in the name of our good queen was there so much clothes between us?

Annoyed, I began to untangle myself from the rather constricted position I was in, and slipped underneath the shirt. It was exactly as I had expected. Smooth, slim, and toned.

Mmhm. Perfect.

The figure stirred lazily. I didn't want to get up either, but the lower half of my body seemed to have a different opinion about getting up altogether. The bed sheets shifted, and something else rubbed against me. I involuntarily let out a moan, too, as I eagerly pressed forward, lifting the shirt in the process.

It felt strangely...flat. And hard. In fact, everything was hard.

My eyes shot open as I inhaled sharply. I froze, staring dumbly at the scene before me, while Hector muttered something about pigs.

"...mhmm, Joe?" He blinked sleepily. Then, he noticed my hands, one wrapped around his waist, the other busy trying to rip his shirt off. Hector raised a brow.

Oh boy.

"What are you doing?"

My thoughts scrambled for a viable explanation. Perhaps I could make him believe that I simply liked to hug things, but that wouldn't explain what my hands were up to.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I countered.

"Trying to devirginize an innocent hunk, from the looks of it."

Devirginize? Virgin? From which side, one had to wonder? The excitable demon below my waist seemed to find the prospect of devirginizing really appealing at the moment. Looks like I'd have to find some believable excuse for the semi-permanent status of my morning wood.

I released my grip and sat upright.

"Take better care of it then," I referred to his virginity, whichever side it was. "Avoid sleeping with shirtless men in their own bed. Speaking of which, where is my shirt?"

Hector avoided my gaze, taking a sudden interest in the digital clock laying atop the nightstand. It was slightly past ten and the sultry summer heat was already seeping in despite the drawn curtains.

I briefly scanned the room and spotted my shirt sprawled across the floor like a used rag. Walking over, I picked it up and looked back at him, silently demanding an explanation.

"Your shirt was dirty," Hector said, which failed to explain anything, really. I stepped forward, causing Hector to stumble onto the mattress.

"And I believe I told you that dirty laundry belonged in the laundry basket," I stared down. The round neck collar was a tad too big for someone his size. It revealed quite a number of things from this angle.