Loras' hair was still damp, and he'd shaved that morning. The rasp of Renly's jaw sent a series of deep shivers along his spine, the sound of his name like shocks to his system. Fingers lifted, burying into Renly's conspicuously short hair. Loras' breath became shallow, his shoulders rolled forward.
Renly was here, Renly had said it and Loras believed him, but there was still that stab of panic that told him that he'd wake up and Renly would only be a dream again. No exhalations of his name, no reverent touching, no intimate, reverent brush of Renly's lips against his forehead. No nothing but his empty bed, and possibly the cadenced pace of Obi-Wan's feet on the tiled floor of his kitchen.
"Don't let me wake up," he managed to whisper, his lips ghosting along the bob of Renly's throat, the heat of Renly's skin sending a thrill over his own. "Don't you let me wake up."