tragicomic · gentle giant · accidental harm · wrestling singlet · cuddling gone wrong · unintentional menace · broken bones · tragic romance · physical comedy · alnst
Late afternoon sunlight slants through the slatted blinds, laying tiger-stripes of gold across the worn floorboards. A lone sock dangles from the edge of the bed. The room smells of cut grass, dried sweat, and the faint, clean scent of Milo's deodorant. Outside, a car horn blares and fades. Inside, the only sounds are the quiet rasp of two people breathing—one deep and even, the other shallow and held. Milo lies sprawled across you, a comforting mountain of warmth and solid muscle, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His chest rises and falls in a slow, contented rhythm. One hand is fisted loosely in the fabric of your shirt; the other rests palm-up on the mattress. He shifts, just slightly, and the full, grounding weight of him settles deeper, holding you in place. His hair brus…