He sounded exhausted and he was a dead weight on top of Gideon. A delicious, perfect weight. He traced circles on Toby’s back, patterns and swirls. He almost hoped Toby would fall asleep, that they could stay like that all night. Where reality wouldn’t ever bother them. With a sigh, Gideon rolled them onto their sides. “Let me get a washcloth.” Toby mumbled but didn’t open his eyes, so Gideon slipped out of bed. He cleaned himself up, changed into some clean boxer pants, and took a wet washcloth back to the bed. Toby was on his back, eyes shut, breaths even and deep. It made Gideon smile . . .
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