Billy slept in my nook last night.
I don't think that's ever happened before. I'm usually the one to find the nook. Usually, that's my head nustled where his shoulder meets his armpit, that's my hand cradling his upper chest, my leg curled around his, my hair invariably finding its way up his nose.
It was weird. Nice, but weird. Just being in that position gave me this feeling of, I don't want to say power, but it definitely made me feel in control.
Billy had a little bit too much to drink last night at the gay club (Tuesday nights are 'chicken' nights, though poorly enforced) and I drove him home. I undressed him, and undressed myself, and by the time I knew what was going on, he was in my nook, fast asleep. I even had to remind him for my goodnight kiss.
(I am, in fact, a stickler for some things, and one thing is that if we're two guys who are kinda sorta seeing each other or something and we're sleeping naked in the same bed [he went commando, and drunkenly slurred that if he was nakey, I had to be nakey too] I at least get a kiss goodnight.)
I don't know. Maybe it's because I was in control at the time, and he was very vulnerable (by the time we left, he wasn't able to stand on his own). But it was still nice; a role reversal, even.
I was chatting with Peter (aka the good ex) online the other night, and he actually said the thing that I was thinking but thought it was too dumb to say: I'm gaying it forward.
It's my nook he finds, I'm the older and wiser (though not more experienced; I wouldn't be surprised if Billy has slept with 50 times as many people has I have), I'm the alpha.
Unfortunately, my drink of choice is Red Bull and Vodka, and I while I was more than sober enough to drive the RedBull kept me up for a while, and there's really not much movement to be done when someone's in your nook.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.