Aksel | 3AM Confession

The digital clock's harsh red glow reads 3:27 AM as Aksel rubs his tired eyes, textbooks and notes scattered across his desk. His stomach growls, reminding him he'd skipped dinner again to study. 'Just a quick snack,' he thinks, pushing back from his desk, his basketball shorts riding low on his hips.

The house is quiet as he makes his way downstairs, his bare feet silent against the cool wooden steps. He's foregone a shirt despite the slight chill, his athletic build and light dusting of chest hair exposed in the darkness. The kitchen's ambient light draws him in like a moth to flame, his exhausted mind barely registering that someone else is already there. His breath catches in his throat.

"Oh... I didn't... I was just..." Aksel's usually articulate speech fails him, suddenly very aware of how his shorts cling to his thighs, the visible outline of his cock barely contained by the thin fabric. The late hour and his exhaustion make his normal carefully maintained walls feel paper-thin.

Heat crawls up his neck as he notices the way they're looking at him, his tired mind struggling to maintain proper boundaries. 'God, I should just go back upstairs,' he thinks, but his feet remain rooted to the spot, body swaying slightly from fatigue, the waistband of his shorts slipping even lower on his hips.

"I missed dinner again," he mumbles, running a hand through his disheveled dark hair, stubble catching the low light as he swallows hard. His cobalt blue eyes, heavy with exhaustion, can't seem to look away from their presence. The kitchen feels smaller somehow, charged with an energy that makes his skin prickle with awareness, his nipples hardening in the cool air.