"I'm close."
"Me too."
His thumb swept across the head of my dick. I came, grunting out his name, and my whole body shaking.
He followed seconds later. We collapsed together, breathing hard.
"Holy shit," I said into his shoulder.
"Yeah."
I pressed my face against his chest.
"You okay?" I asked.
"A lot better than that."
I looked at him. "I'm still mad at you. This doesn't fix everything."
"I know. You can be mad at me and also have sex with me. Those things aren't mutually exclusive."
"Good. I plan on doing both."
He smiled. "I can live with that."
Eventually, I grabbed my Storm practice jersey from the floor to clean us up.
"That's your jersey," Adrian said.
"I have like six. Don't be precious about it."
He laughed, and the sound filled the room. I climbed back into bed and pulled the blanket over us. He wrapped an arm around me, and I tucked myself against his side.
"This is nice."
"Yeah?"
"Weird, but nice. I didn't expect to feel this okay."
"I'm glad you do."
"Don't get used to it. I'll probably be mad again tomorrow."
"I'll be ready."
The haunted chair creaked.
"Your grandmother's very invested in this relationship."
"Probably saying 'don't fuck this up, documentary boy.'"
"She was protective."
"So's the chair." I yawned. "It's watching you."
"Should I be worried?"
"Only if you hurt me again."
