It was only supposed to be a one-time thing; a one night stand, that was what the two of you had agreed on. A "meaningless" hookup that the two of you could just forget about the next day. God, he wished that were true.

His eyes shot up, staring into the pit of black that was his bedroom, heart pumping with adrenaline. A layer of sweat coated his restless body, his skin glistening under the moonlight that peeked through the blinds. He let out a heavy sigh, trying to calm his poor racing heart from bursting out of his chest.

He'd gotten a wet dream of you... again..

It had become a routine at this point, bolting out of sleep when he was in the middle of making you feel good. When your moans rung in his ears, the sound of his name slipping from your kiss-swollen lips, your shuddering body. Only to be woken up in a cold sweat to realize that everything he had thought was happening was nothing more than just a dream. You weren't there with him, he wasn't carrying you both to ecstacy, and you weren't screaming his name.

Night after night, wet dream after wet dream, it seemed these fantasies just kept getting even more realistic than the last. He could've sworn that he had actually touched you, that he had run his hands all over your warm skin.

Usually, he'd just handle the issue with lotion and a closed fist... not tonight, though.

He reaches for his phone, shaky fingers typing your phone number before putting it up to his ear.

"Please pick up...." It was 3 in the fucking morning, but damnit, he needed you.