New Sensation

Chapter 7

Type woke up with a start, panting.

For a moment, he thought he had had a nightmare, but that wasn't it. His dream had been pleasant, lying on a picknick blanket with Tin and Can on the beach at home.

He was sure he had heard something. Some unexpected noise must have woken him up.

He looked at Tin next to him.

After two weeks of sharing a bed with him, Type knew his boyfriend was not a morning person, and he was of course still soundly sleeping.

Type sighed.

Maybe he was just missing Can, imagining that their boyfriend had already returned.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't return today. Can had had to spend the night at home, because his family was going on a weekend trip to meet more family somewhere in the countryside. He was probably already sitting in the back of his parents' car next to his sister and their dog, asking if they were there, yet.

It wasn't the same. The bed felt empty without Can. His constant happy chatter couldn't be replaced even with the radio that Tin and Type had turned on for dinner last night, because the silence had felt so uncomfortable.

Sure, spending time with Tin alone wasn't bad, they could finally talk about the stuff Can would roll his eyes on. Like, their shared passion for old European arthouse movies. They had tried watching one or two with Can present, but he had found them so confusing and boring, that nothing could get Can to fall asleep more reliably than that.

But it turned out that cuddling up in front of Tin's large TV didn't feel the same without Can sleeping in one of their laps. The movie had been good, though: a Swedish movie from 1998 called Fucking Åmål, about two teenage girls who fall in love with each other, bonding over teenage angst in the titular small town.

It had been relatable, how one of the girls thought she was just playing around, kissing the rumoured lesbian – and slowly realising that maybe, she had done it not as a joke or an experiment, but because she actually was attracted to other girls.

They had talked about the movie for a while – missing Can's unfiltered commentary so much they started to speculate what he would have said – and had finally gone to bed.

Can had not been very happy to leave them to sleep together without him. He had suddenly been irrationally worried that they might conclude that they didn't need him there.

It had all been for nothing, of course.

Tin and Type had only shared a few deep kisses, slightly emotional ones, because of the feelings the movie had stirred in them.

Somehow, Type had found himself pressed into the sheets with Tin on top of him naturally and Tin had continued his kisses all over his body. He was marking all the sensitive spots with hickeys – like he had ordered Type to do to Can the other day.

In the end, Type had thanked Tin for his attention with a quick blowjob, but he had refused one in return. The hickeys had reminded him too much of Can, and Type had made the silent resolution that he would not allow himself to come, until Can was back.

Maybe that was why he had woken up.

He had massive morning wood, like his body had decided that it needed to make sure it was still working properly.

With the vague intention to get up and take a shower, to let the inconvenience between his legs deflate naturally, he climbed out of the bed – and flinched.

There!

There had definitely been a sound. Like muffled footsteps of socked feet, and someone pulling out a chair.