He pulled his T-shirt off without sitting up, dragging it over his head and dropping it on the duvet beside him. Better. The linen prickled against his bare skin. His socks went next, peeled off and kicked towards the foot of the bed.
From the kitchen, Diwa’s voice drifted through, saying something about the kettle and asking whether Colin wanted Barry’s or the oolong, and Colin said “Barry’s” without opening his eyes. He reached for the spare duvet folded at the foot of the bed and dragged it up alongside him. The weight of it against his hip felt right, so he pulled it closer, bunching it against his side. One of the pillows had ended up at the wrong angle, and he reached for it, tucking it in against his stomach without thinking about why.
His boxers were too warm. He shimmied them down his hips and added them to the growing pile of fabric beside him. The duvet went over his legs, and the second pillow came across before he’d thought about it. He reached for the throw that had been draped over the armchair by the window, pulled it ontothe bed, and folded it into the space between the spare duvet and his back. Diwa’s jumper was still tossed over the headboard from that morning. Colin pulled it down and drew it in against his chest, pressing his nose into the collar where the warm green scent of the alpha’s skin was strongest.
The bed, by the time he was done with it, looked as though someone had emptied a wardrobe onto it and then burrowed in. Colin lay in the middle of it all, bare-skinned and flushed, with the jumper against his face and every available textile in the room arranged in a loose wall around his body.
Diwa found him like that.
He’d come in from the kitchen with the Barry’s in one hand and the oolong in the other, still talking, and stopped in the doorway. His gaze moved across the bed, taking in the architecture of what Colin had built while he’d been gone. Colin was naked inside all of it, flushed from throat to navel, his skin sheened with sweat that caught the low light from the bedside lamp.
“Oh,” Diwa said. “Colin. Is this…are you nesting?”
“I’m resting.”
“You’ve rearranged the entire bedroom. You’ve got my jumper. You’ve built a… Colin, this is a nest.”
“It’s a pile of blankets.”
“It’s a nest.” The mugs went down on the dresser. Diwa crossed the room slowly, stopping at the edge of the mattress. “Can I come in?”
Colin shifted the throw aside to make a gap, which was all the invitation Diwa needed. The mattress dipped as he climbed in, careful not to disturb the arrangement, and his hand settled on Colin’s waist.
“You’re burning up.” Diwa pressed his lips to Colin’s shoulder, and whatever temperature reading he’d been about to deliver dissolved into a slow exhale through his nose. The scenthad hit him. Colin could tell by the way Diwa’s chest expanded to take in the smell of him.
Colin’s scent had been shifting for hours, the green-sap sharpness mellowing into something heavier, sweeter, dense enough that he could smell it on himself when he turned his head against the pillow. Diwa’s mouth stayed on his shoulder.
Diwa’s warm solid bulk against Colin’s back drew a moan out of Colin. The cotton of Diwa’s T-shirt chafed against Colin’s skin, so he reached back and got a fistful of the hem.
“Off,” he commanded.
Diwa pulled the shirt over his head and came back. They were skin to skin now, the heat of his chest spreading across Colin’s back. His joggers went next, shoved down and kicked to the foot of the bed, and then there was nothing between them. Diwa’s cock was already half-hard, pressed against the cleft of Colin’s arse, and when Colin shifted back into it, Diwa’s breath caught.
“Tell me what you need.”
Colin reached back between them, closed around Diwa’s cock, and guided it between his thighs. The slick that had been building since before he fell asleep was pooled warm in the crease of his groin, and Diwa slid through it with a low groan that vibrated against Colin’s spine. His cock dragged along the wetness of Colin’s arsehole, the thick head catching against his opening before sliding past, and Colin’s fingers tightened on his own thigh.
“Inside,” Colin said. “Go slow.”
Diwa reached between them. His fingers traced the cleft of Colin’s arse, parting him with his thumb, and Colin felt himself open under the touch. Two fingers pressed into him, slow and testing.
The blunt press of Diwa’s cock replaced his fingers. He pushed in with one long slow slide until he was fully seated,his arm tightening around Colin’s ribs. Colin’s arse clenched around him, and neither of them moved for a long moment. Diwa’s forehead was pressed between Colin’s shoulder blades, his breathing ragged.
“Okay?” Diwa asked.
“Mm.”
The nest held them. It kept the cool air off Colin’s front while Diwa’s body covered his back. The jumper was still crushed against his chest, filling his nose with the alpha.
Diwa started to move in deep strokes that pulled back to the tip before pressing in again, his arm braced across Colin’s chest, his hand curled around Colin’s far shoulder. Each thrust ground the head of his cock against the front wall of Colin’s arse, and the pressure built in Colin’s belly.
Colin’s cock was hard, pressed between his stomach and the nest he’d built, leaking against the linen. Diwa’s free hand wrapped around him from behind.
The alpha kept his pace slow, his hips rolling in long strokes that made Colin’s toes curl against the mattress. His mouth moved across Colin’s skin wherever he could reach. Colin’s hand reached for Diwa’s where it lay across his chest and gripped hard.
He came first. Diwa’s hand on his cock tightened at exactly the right moment, and the orgasm moved through him in a wave that started at the base of his spine and spread outward until his thighs were shaking and his teeth were sunk into the pillow. He clenched hard around Diwa’s cock, and he felt the alpha’s rhythm falter, his hips snapping forward once before he caught himself and slowed back down.
“Keep going,” Colin said, hoarse. “Don’t stop.”
