Milo lay rigid, a human statue of pure, unadulterated panic and conflicting arousal. Elias, the impossible creature, was spooning him, his body a furnace of warmth against Milo's back. The soft, slow rhythm of Elias's breathing was a tantalizing caress on his neck, and the gentle tickle of those wolf-ears against his jaw was driving him absolutely insane. Every nerve ending in Milo's body was hyper-aware of the foreign weight, the unexpected intimacy.
This is not happening. This is a dream. A very, very vivid, very inappropriate dream.
He tried to calm his racing heart, to force his mind away from the feel of Elias's thigh pressed against his. But it was impossible. The heat radiating from Elias's body was seeping into him, not just physically, but stirring something deep and uncomfortable within Milo himself.
And then, Elias shifted again.
It was a slow, deliberate movement, even in sleep. Elias's leg, the one already subtly positioned between Milo's, suddenly flexed and nudged closer, pressing firmly against Milo's erection.
Milo gasped, a sharp, silent intake of air. His entire body clenched. His "stick," as he so eloquently called it, was now fully, undeniably pressed against Elias's warm, muscular thigh. The unexpected contact, the sheer, brazen intimacy of it, sent a shockwave of white-hot desire through him. A low groan, raw and involuntary, threatened to escape his lips. He clamped them shut, biting down hard to stop the sound.
Holy fucking shit, Milo screamed internally, his mind a whirlwind of profanity and panic. He's asleep! He doesn't know! But what if he feels it? What if he wakes up and thinks I'm some kind of pervert?
As if in response to Milo's inner turmoil, Elias sighed deeply, a soft, contented sound that seemed to rumble through Milo's back. And then, he inched closer. Not just a casual shift, but a deliberate, almost nestling movement. His arm tightened slightly around Milo's waist, pulling him in further, until their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to thigh. Elias's long, dark hair, still damp in places, brushed Milo's cheek again, and he could feel the distinct, firm contours of Elias's defined abs against his spine.
Milo's breath hitched. He was trapped. Utterly, deliciously, terrifyingly trapped. He could feel the warmth of Elias's hand resting lightly on his stomach, the individual scales on his back subtly pressing against Milo's chest. The faint, earthy scent of Elias was overwhelming now, a primal, intoxicating perfume that filled his senses.
He was so unbelievably flustered he thought he might actually explode. His face was a furnace, his palms were sweating, and his heart was trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. Every muscle in his body was screaming, both to escape and to press closer. This was a nightmare scenario, utterly unprofessional, completely uncalled for. He had a literal dragon-man, an injured, powerful, gorgeous man with horns and a tail and soft wolf-ears, unconsciously spooning him, his leg intimately tangled with Milo's arousal. In his own damn bed, in Westkilo, Calin City.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as if that would make Elias's unconscious embrace disappear. But it didn't. He was acutely aware of the hard muscle of Elias's thigh, the increasing throb between his own legs, the soft sound of Elias's sleep-breathing right by his ear. This wasn't just heat anymore; it was a goddamn inferno.
And somewhere, deep down, amidst the panic and the fluster, a traitorous part of Milo's mind realized... he didn't want it to stop. Not really.