Poor Baby

... By Hathor
This one is a little different; more sweet than sexy.

God, he looks so pathetic, just sitting there. I told him I'd be a while, that he shouldn't wait up for me. I certainly wasn't expecting to find him in my crappy little dorm room. I told him I'd call him when I got back from the library, and depending on the time, would meet him anywhere he liked. How'd the hell did he get in here anyway? I'll bet the RD let him in. She knows I've been seeing him for some time now. I guess I can't blame her. I mean, really, would you deny this man anything? I wouldn't. I haven't. Not really.

He wants me to move in with him. I didn't tell him no; how could I? I love him. I've been wanting that for some time now. I simply told him it had to wait until I was done with my studies. I only have one semester to go, and my dissertation defense, and I'll be free and clear. A smarty-pants PhD. He doesn't do waiting well. I told him that tonight was going to be a late night. God, I so don't have the energy for this now. He knows when I'm tired, I'll agree to anything, well, nearly anything, just so I don't have to think anymore.

I cleared my throat as I stood there, watching him. He didn't notice me come in. "Hey, you," I said softly.

He looked up at me, and his melancholy expression morphed into joyful longing. He jumped up from the bed and took my heavy backpack from me, and placed it on the desk. "Hey, yourself," he said, kissing me gently on the cheek.

"What brings you by?" I have to be careful with what I say. I get bitchy when I'm tired, and say things I don't mean. What I was thinking was "what the hell are you doing here?" but I can't say that to him. He'd take it wrong. For someone always in the limelight and always being scrutinized he has a remarkably thin skin. At least, he does with people he knows; people he can be himself around. Like me.

"I missed your face," he said, cradling my face and kissing me slowly. Oh God, how I love this man.

"I missed you too; it's been a bitch of a day."

"Let me help," he said, leading me to the bed. He eased me down and had me flip over on my stomach. His strong hands kneaded at my shoulders and neck, easing the tension from them. He worked his way down my spine to my lower back, where he knows I get sore. I couldn't help but let out a moan. He chuckled. "You should really take breaks and stretch once in a while."

"I know, but when I get into my shit, I lose track of time." It's true. I set the alarm on my Blackberry so I would remember that the library closes.

"I know, sweetie." He continued working on my back, and I felt the tension and stress just seep from my body. My eyes were getting heavy, and I knew he could tell. He didn't stop, though, just kept rubbing and squeezing my aching muscles.

I must have drifted off, because I remember waking up. Waking up crammed against the wall in this crappy twin-sized bed with this big, gorgeous man next to me. He had removed my shoes and clothes, leaving me in my underwear. He was in his boxers, and we were under the covers. Jesus, to do all of that, and for me not to notice, I must have been dead tired. I watched him sleep, a small smile on his face. I snuggled up to him, and took his hand in mine. I kissed his mouth softly, and the next to last thought I had when I drifted off again was how much I loved him.

The last thought was how the hell would I finish my dissertation at his house?

Told you I can deny him nothing...