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[soldier_singled]

Every night, it happens the same way. He snaps awake, dripping in cold sweat despite the heat, and he can't exactly remember what he was dreaming, but he knows it's got to do with Maggie, or his Ma, or the little ones. He just knows it

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[thewordofweb]

By the time the bed sighs with the weight of another person, I'm still awake, though I face the wall and don't say a word when I'm joined. It's been the same time every night, each night. Ever since Tuesday, I wake up in the middle of the night to find I'm not alone and then waking up fully in the morning to find that I am. First, I'd thought I was dreaming until it happened again and proved that I wasn't entirely out of my mind

[soldier_singled]

Joe's started to drift into a flitful sleep by the time he feels Web roll closer. Last night, he dreamed the Web's hand was on him, but, by the time he woke up, he was on the other side of the bed. Joe don't know what the means.

He makes a soft sound, a sound of recognition and presses his face deeper into the pillow.

Every night, he's praying Web doesn't ask him why he's there, and why he keeps coming back.

[thewordofweb]

That little sound is almost enough to drive me forward on hope alone. That he's lying there and doesn't seem to mind that I curl up with him until we're nearly spooning is something, at least.

It takes me another half hour, at least, before I work up the nerves to rest my hand on his hip, fingers warm and touching skin because Joe came to bed in nothing but his pajama pants. I slide that palm around and rest it there lightly, terrified and almost feeling like I ought to be shaking. How can I be so nervous when we spent so many days so close to each other that we were nearly fused?

And yet, the slightest tremble still lies in my fingers as I let it rest on his hipbone, more nervous than ever.

[soldier_singled]

Dozing in and out, Joe's aware of Web's hand on him again. He's got one knee drawn up, one arm pillowed under his head and Web's hand is on his hip. At first, Joe figures that Web wants him to move, but if he wants that, he'll say something. He thinks about pulling away, but he doesn't. He keeps his eyes closed and pretends to sleep.

[thewordofweb]

Oddly enough, I didn't do this while I was under the veil of a much prettier face. I went down on him, we had sex, but I never managed to fully bring him off by my hand without him first stopping me. Inches seem like miles and a full push forward in the war as two inches fall prey to my fingertips and the heat below beckons me forward.

I should go faster. Slow means Joe has every opportunity to draw away.

In the end, my body does it for me. In this half-sleep, half-waking, my body sends a pulse of a signal through my body to assure that I am not dead, nor paralyzed and I jump fully. My hand slides and there's no hesitation now before stroking the once and retreating, hand returning to where it rested on his hip.

[soldier_singled]

The jerk of Joe's hips into the circle of Web's fingers, well...he wants to say that it's his body talking for him, but maybe it's got more to do with the fact that, with his eyes closed, Web doesn't smell any different than he did before.

He can't ignore the fact that he's starting to get hard, and he can't ignore the fact that he's holding his breath.

He forces it out in a long, shaky sigh.

"...Webster?"

[thewordofweb]

I bow my head, chin tucked against my chest as I hear Joe speak and know that either I can feign that I'm still asleep or acknowledge that yes, I am awake and placing my hand on his bare skin and want to bring him off and curl him close until he doesn't toss and turn so much. "I'll stop," I mumble quietly, a breathy little promise now that I've been caught out.

[soldier_singled]

I didn't say that.

"Did you think I was sleepin'?" asks Joe, his own voice a hushed whisper, mindful of Skinny on the other side of the wall. He shifts his hips, just barely, his cheeks flushing at the sensation of dick brushing against cotton.

He hasn't got a fucking clue what's going on here.

[thewordofweb]

"Yeah," I exhale, my word coming out as just a breath of air against his skin as my hand feels absolutely frozen in place where it is. When Joe shifts his hips, my hand drifts back just enough to be stuck between the small of his back and his hip, drifting perilously above his ass. "I just thought, with you coming back here every night..."

[soldier_singled]

"I can't sleep."

It's as much of an honest admission as he can manage. He's told Sonya about the nightmares, but only because she has her own. It's not the same with Easy.

He laughs, but it's almost a sigh, there's so little actual humour in it.

"You smell exactly the fuckin' same."

[thewordofweb]

"Do I?" I hadn't noticed or taken stock of the little differences and I curl self-consciously slightly, to think that something like that could happen and be noticed by Joe. My hand is still on his skin and nothing he's said has told me not to do this, so instead of asking how long he's known that little fact, I slide it back under his pants and stroke fully again before withdrawing.

[soldier_singled]

"How'd..." Web's fingers are around his dick again, and Joe's breath catches, his throat suddenly dry, "How'd you keep hands that soft through a goddamn war?"

It occurs to him that his hands might still be soft, too, if they'd ever been soft in the first place.

[thewordofweb]

For some reason, I decide that I might as well go fully, now, and push down to start giving Joe a proper handjob instead of the hints of one. "I wore gloves, a lot," I mumble quietly. "It keeps the moisture in." And stroking Joe's dick, now, I wonder just how soft they are and how they compare to when they were more slender versions of themselves.

[soldier_singled]

What Joe can't focus on is that Web is jerking him off. Or he can, but he can't focus on the fact that it's a man who's jerking him off. He can cope with it being Webster, which should be worrying but isn't. He just keeps his eyes closed, keeps breathing in the same scent and feeling soft hands and slowly, so slowly, he starts to rock his hips.

"You're the only g...the only one I know who'd have worried about somethin' like that."

[thewordofweb]

That almost derives a soft laugh from me, utter disbelief that we're still talking about something I thought had been laid in stone by all of Easy long ago. Every rock of Joe's hips make me think that I'm safe to go forward and I continue with firm strokes, trying to replicate the way I might have if my hands were smaller.

"I used to worry," I admit, lips by Joe's shoulder (but a fair distance yet, from touching), "that by the time I grew a beard the way I've been able to, I wouldn't be able to groom it. And it gets thick."

[soldier_singled]

It's awkward, the angle, Joe full on his side and every rock of his hips, he can feel the heat pouring off Web against his ass and he doesn't know what he's doing here and then, right then, he has to bite down on a sobbing sigh that's trying to come out.

"Gonna...have to start giving you...Jesus. Proper shaves."