Because I believe you've waited long enough
It's maddening. First the rain, then Grigg's mood shifting to match it, in the most stereotypical pathetic fallacy, and now this. Perhaps the reason for Grigg's mood shift: the room. Not that David seems to mind it half as much as Grigg does, it's still rather an inconvenience to share a bed - a very small bed - with someone who very clearly wants to be both very far and very close to you.
Regardless, they sleep.
Or they do until Grigg starts gently shifting around, turning his small, lithe body in such ways as to make it near-impossible for David to lie still, but lie still he does, keeps his breathing even, pretends, for just a moment longer that he's sleeping and that the delicious friction against him is just a dream he can control and manipulate into something more.
But the the shifting doesn't stop, and the quiet gentle breaths of the other man become just that little more desperate, just the slightest bit hitched, and David just gives up, pulls the man closer, and buries his face in the back of his neck.
"Stop it."
He isn't even sure he's spoken aloud, his eyes still closed and his mind still resolutely telling him that all the dark fantasies he's having about rolling them so he can pin the man and kiss him into absolute delicious pliancy are just that, fantasies, until Grigg's voice comes quiet and unsure.
"Huh?"
And christ, could the man be any more endearing? With his floppy hair and his absolute puppy-excitement about this damned convention he's dragging David to, and his perchant for good food but really, really bad music...
"Stop moving," he confirms, tone lower now because it's just too much, there's only so much a man can take, after all, "It's hard enough keeping my hand above your waist.”