He walks towards the bed, stiff as a board, somehow managing to move his legs and arms in sync. The bed creaks when you sit on it; it's cold. "...!'m gonna turn off the light now." he mumbles, settling in under the covers. He doesn't say anything, nor do you. Somewhere between midnight and dawn, you wake up with his arm slung heavy around your waist, his breath hot against the back of your neck. Startled by the lack of space between you, you attempt to move out of his embrace-the action resulting in you unintentionally grinding up against him. The grip on your waist abruptly tightens, his breathing getting heavier, you freeze when his face lands flat on your shoulder. "S-Stop moving."