In the morning, he’ll have to tell Will that this was a mistake. That the wine they’d consumed was in error. That the way they’d worked each other’s bodies was wrong. That the way he’d groaned Will’s name was simply a lapse in judgment and nothing more.
But right now, the regulation bed is more comfortable than he’s ever remembered it being. Will’s body is warm and solid against his back, his arm strong and protective across his waist. And he feels a warm, snaking sort of contentment—a bone-deep, insinuating thing—that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
So he lets himself relax. Feels Will breathing softly against his neck. Wonders, with a hint of sadness, how long this could possibly last.
Yes. He’ll have to tell him in the morning.