The man after my life.

BAEKALIS’ POV

I nipped at my bottom lip, wetting the plump flesh with my tongue. I shuffled on the bed, trying to get a better position so I could fall asleep.

The room was getting hot, or maybe it was actually all in my head. The blanket was heavy, and it did its work of making sure the people underneath it — Cyrus and I — were warm. But in this case, it seemed the blanket was doing a too good of a job, because I could swear I was dying. It was too hot, and the blanket was making it worse.

The weight of Cyrus’ leg swung over the lower half of my body underneath the covers wasn't even making anything better.

I was too aware of everything, too awake, and my body was itching to get up and do something but I was just so tired abs spent. I knew that if I got up, I'd make things worse for myself because I was feeling sore all over.

Fuck my life.

“Are you sure you're comfortable?” Cyrus whispered, his mouth so close to my ear that he was practically breathing into it. He exhaled softly