A/N: Another short fic based on a scene from the movie "Howl." Please see the previous fic "Morning" (it's super-short) for further explanation, if you're interested.

This is first person point of view, Spencer Reid narrates.

I own nothing and no one from Criminal Minds or the movie Howl, or the poem Howl.

Thanks, loves!

Seds

One night, while traveling home by car from a case, Morgan and I ran into circumstances which forced us to share a bed.

It was little more than a narrow cot parked against the wall of a tiny out-of-the-way motel room. Morgan immediately stripped down to shorts and a t-shirt, lay down, and was peacefully asleep within a matter of minutes.

I, however, felt choking anxiety at the thought of removing my clothes in front of, much less lying next to, the man I had harbored intense sexual feelings toward for many months. But, there was nothing for it but to do it. Any attempt to do otherwise-to spend the night in the car (freezing) or on the sticky floor (disgusting) or in the bathtub (I'd never fit) would have brought more attention to my situation than it would to simply remove my shirt and trousers, climb over Morgan's supine figure and wedge myself against the wall, making every effort to keep as much open space between our two bodies as possible.

I quickly discovered that, space-wise, there wasn't much. Even though we didn't actually touch, he was so close I could feel his body heat against my back, my ass, my legs. I could hear his even breaths, and, maybe (I might have imagined it) the steady beat of his heart.

He'd snapped off the lamp, leaving the room in grayscale. I squeezed my eyes shut, and willed my erection to settle down and go to sleep, for God's sake. But, Morgan's slight movements rocked the bed, the edge of his sleeve grazed my arm and made me shiver, and I just got harder. I couldn't stay in my cramped position much longer, my arm was going to sleep, but I couldn't risk turning over and inadvertently revealing the humiliation of my tumescence to my bed partner.

But, eventually, I couldn't stand it any longer. I flipped over, drawing my knees up to prevent the protrusion in my underwear from brushing against Morgan's thigh. However, the very small amount of room I was afforded meant that this new position crowded Morgan and I heard him rustle awake and sigh lightly.

"Sorry," I said. I turned over on my back, but the swollen condition of my male organ produced a bit of a tent in the thin fabric of our blanket and I hastily drew my knees up again. Not a comfortable position for sleep, I can tell you.

So, I said softly, "Hey, Morgan-okay if I sleep on the outside edge?"

"Sure, come on over, kid," he whispered in a groggy voice. I think he was still half asleep.

I gingerly maneuvered myself over his body, keeping one hand on my groin to mask my condition, and once on the free side of the bed, I thought I might manage to fall asleep. However, Morgan apparently did not feel the need to huddle into the wall the way I had, and his body was tight and warm up and down the entire length of my own. My erection only got harder-and more painful. I became even more anxious, which meant sleep became even more elusive.

I couldn't stay on my side any longer, so flipped over onto my stomach, punishing my uncooperative member by squashing it into the thin and lumpy mattress, and I hoped that that would tame it. But Morgan, having slipped into deep slumber, moved slightly, and his hand came up and fell to the side, coming to rest on my ass.

The heat and shock made me raise up, and I looked over at his peaceful countenance. I think the man could sleep through a gas station explosion, if he were tired enough. I swiveled, sat up, and ran my hands over my face, then looked back at my bedmate. His beautiful dark features were composed in utter calm and serenity.

God, how I envied him.

I lay down on my back again, only this time, half my body was hanging off the edge of the bed in an effort to avoid further-and possibly even more disastrous-accidental touching. I somehow managed to drift off for a moment, only to find myself deposited on the cold, hard floor. I wearily climbed back onto the bed, with my back to Morgan. I was determined to ignore the fact that the finely-defined, muscular chest, the ropy arms, the chiseled thighs, and the most handsome face I'd ever seen were blithely lying next to me in this remote rat's nest of a motel, and go to sleep.

But, it was useless. I tossed and turned in the limited space afforded me, and then Morgan turned on his side and took up what tiny fraction of an inch I had to play with, his cheek pressed against my shoulder, his warm breath on my neck.

I almost cried in frustration as my cock sprang into taut, fully-formed, aching erectness again.

I took a deep breath. I carefully crawled over Morgan and took my place jammed against the wall again, thinking that that was probably the better option after all. I could feel him breathing. I flipped over onto my back and stared at the ceiling, then rolled onto my side, folded myself into a fetal position, and sighed.

I felt Morgan stir.

He opened his eyes and smiled. He held out one arm and said, "Come 'ere, kid."

I stared at him, bewildered. But, I scooted up and lay against him, tentatively resting my cheek on his chest. He took my arm and wrapped it around himself, then pulled the covers up over us evenly, and enfolded me in a tight embrace. He held me, and, whatever he thought of the unmistakable bulge in my shorts that nudged his thigh whenever I moved, he didn't acknowledge it. He just gave me a companionable squeeze, then settled back into sleep.

I've never slept so well in my life.