Milo was burning. Not with fever, but with a heat that originated somewhere deep in his core and radiated outwards, fueled by every inch of Elias's sleeping form pressed against his own. The soft, rhythmic sound of Elias's breathing was a maddening lullaby in his ear, each exhale a warm puff against his neck. The goddamn wolf-ears were still tickling him, a constant, annoying, arousing sensation.
But it was Elias's leg, firmly nestled between Milo's, that was the true source of the inferno. It was a heavy, warm anchor, and with every tiny shift Elias made in his sleep, the pressure increased, the friction a torment. Milo's "stick" was throbbing relentlessly, a persistent, undeniable ache that demanded attention. He was hard, painfully so, and trapped. Trapped by politeness, by common sense, and by a terrifying, escalating attraction to the half-dragon currently using him as a body pillow.
This is fucked. This is so, so fucked,
Milo's mind screamed, a frantic, repetitive mantra. His entire body was rigid, every muscle tensed, fighting the impossible urges that coiled in his gut. He tried to breathe shallowly, to minimize any movement that might disturb Elias, or worse, somehow betray his own desperate state.
And then, a soft groan rumbled from Elias's chest, a sound deeper than any Milo had heard from him so far, tinged with something that sounded like profound contentment. Elias's arm, still loosely draped over Milo's waist, tightened just a fraction. His hand, surprisingly soft despite its implied power, spread flat against Milo's lower stomach, resting just above the waistband of his pajama bottoms.
That was it. That was the line.
Milo's breath hitched. He felt Elias's thumb, even in sleep, make a tiny, unconscious brush against his skin, just above the elastic. It was a fleeting, innocent gesture, but in Milo's hyper-aware state, it felt like a searing brand. He could feel the warmth of Elias's palm through the thin fabric, the phantom sensation of those powerful fingers so close to… everything.
His erection pulsed, a sharp, insistent demand. He felt hot, clammy, and utterly, excruciatingly aroused. The sheer audacity of the situation, the utter helplessness of his position, was driving him to the brink of a complete meltdown. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard he saw stars, praying for sleep, for unconsciousness, for anything to make the sensation stop.
But Elias, oblivious to the inferno he had ignited, only burrowed deeper. His powerful thigh pressed further against Milo's throbbing erection, a gentle, rhythmic pressure that was both agonizing and unbelievably pleasurable. Milo bit down on his lip, drawing blood, desperate to silence the whimpers that threatened to escape. The scent of Elias, earthy and wild, became almost suffocatingly intoxicating.
He was pinned. Pinning him was a cold, disdainful creature, who in sleep, was radiating an innocent warmth that was tearing Milo's self-control to shreds. This wasn't just a physical reaction anymore; it was tied to the raw, vulnerable confessions he'd made earlier, to the lingering image of Elias's bare, sculpted abs, to the sheer, bewildering presence of this impossible being in his life, in his bed, in Westkilo, Calin City.
Every instinct screamed for him to move, to escape, to put a continent between them. But he couldn't. A strange, magnetic force, a potent blend of fear, attraction, and an inexplicable tenderness, held him captive. He lay there, rigid and trembling, as the unconscious intimacy of the half-dragon slowly, inexorably, consumed him in a silent, internal firestorm. Elias sighed again, a soft, comfortable sound, completely unaware of the inferno he was causing, simply content in the warmth of Milo's body.