Devin woke several times that night, sweating, with the blankets plastered to his still boyish body. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Was he still with Eric? But then his dark eyes focused, and he realized that he was back in his room. He scanned the room, which was plastered in blue train wall paper. Nothing was out of place- the white carpeting was spotless, and the plastic bookcases well organized. This room had been designed when Devin was 10, but now he was 16. The strange titles of the books piled on the shelves contrasted strangely with the childish decor. Classic poets such as Byron and Poe populated those books. They were often Devin's sole source of comfort- other than dreaming, that is. 1
Devin curled up, desperately trying to ignore his throbbing erection. More than anything, he wanted to return to those dreams, for where else was he truly happy?
Author notes
Eh, I needed to write something, and I've been reading alot of yaoi lately. They were pretty much all sucky yaoi stories, and I figured: I'll show 'em how to write a damn good yaoi story... So, when I come back, I'm writing this...
Edit, edit, edit!! =D
Comments
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nightly sounds awkward. and so does "his dark eyes would focus" consider changing that. interesting start though. i'm captivated.
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