Rudy/Ray

It had to be at least 11 o’clock now. The way the light cut through the curtains, and the telltale digital glow from his alarm clock confirmed this. Rudy stretched out his arm, searching for the warmth of Ray’s back or his mess of black hair, but his fingertips found nothing but wrinkled sheets. He blinked, bleary-eyed and now painfully aware of the ache in his thighs and shoulders.

A flush from the bathroom made Rudy sigh, he flopped back down into his pillow and watched Ray shuffle back to the bed, stretching and yawning and looking about as tired as Rudy felt.

“G’mornin’,” he mumbled, slipping back under the sheets and curling up on Rudy’s chest like a tabby cat.