up something you need for something you want?”
“Why not?”
“You need a flatmate,” Simon said. “That’s why not.”
“I do.” Garen reached up and tucked his fingers into Simon’s open collar. “But I need my sanity more.”
The moment their mouths met, he felt Simon’s resistance dissolve. He gripped Garen’s shoulders and pulled him into a deeper kiss. Garen slid his palms up over Simon’s collarbone until he felt the bare skin of his neck, then the faint hint of stubble beneath his thumbs. He rose on his toes and pressed forward, so that if Simon had suddenly pulled away, Garen would’ve be the one face-planting on the floor.
But Simon didn’t pull away. He held on tight as his lips and tongue turned Garen upside down and inside out, until they were both emitting soft, urgent moans. He held on tight even as they finally broke apart, gasping.
“Wow.” The hoarse awe in Simon’s voice made Garen want to rip his shirt open, buttons be damned.
“Yeah. Wow.” He moved in for another kiss, then stopped. “Either you’re too tall or I’m too short. Can we move to the couch?”
“Couch is good.” Simon followed him there, sinking beside him into the soft pleather surface. “Wait—I should sort things with the doctor in Royal Terrace. It’ll just take a second.”
“Good idea. I’ll open the wine while you do that.” Garen knelt before the coffee table and unfolded the corkscrew, glad for something to do apart from staring lustily at Simon while he returned an email.
“I also need to rebook my train and let my boss know I won’t be at work tomorrow.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“Nah, he knew it might take me longer than a day to find a flat. I’ve worked there since uni, so I’ve loads of leave time.”
“Good.” Garen placed the pointy end of the corkscrew atop the bottle’s foil seal, but it slipped off without puncturing it. “Oops.”
Simon looked up from his phone. “Need help?”
“I’ve got it.” Garen wished he’d asked Luca to leave behind their electric corkscrew. But it always felt such an accomplishment to open wine the old-fashioned way.
After much pulling and twisting, Garen finally opened the bottle. He poured two glasses and gave the one without tiny bits of cork in it to Simon.
“Ta.” Simon pocketed his phone. “I rebooked the same train tomorrow night.”
“Then here’s to the next twenty-four hours.” Garen clinked his glass against Simon’s. He pulled his leg up between them, and Simon mirrored his posture so they were facing each other full-on.
“Cheers.” Simon took a sip, his hazel eyes crinkling as they met Garen’s. “Your hair is amazing. May I touch it, or would that be rude?”
“You may. Thanks for asking.”
Simon reached out and slipped his fingers into the hair just above Garen’s left ear. Garen shivered with pleasure and leaned into the touch.
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since we first met,” Simon said. “You know, two hours ago.”
“When it was in that goofy bun?”
“Maybe not. But even then I did want to see it down.” His fingers slid to the ends of Garen’s hair. “I wanted to know how long it was.”
“Not that long, it turns out.”
“Compared to mine, it is.” Simon swept a hand over his own jet-black hair, every strand of which remained in place. Garen couldn’t wait to dishevel it.
He shifted closer, pressing his knee against Simon’s. “Will you touch me again like that? This time with both hands?”
Simon’s eyes lit up. He looked at his own wine glass, then emptied it in one gulp. Garen took it from him and set both glasses on the coffee table.
He closed his eyes and sighed as Simon’s hands moved through his hair to the back of his neck. It had been forever since anyone had touched him with such careful fascination.
Garen tilted up his chin, and in a moment Simon’s warm lips pressed against his throat, bringing forth a whimper of need. He could feel his pulse pound against Simon’s mouth, the throb echoing back into his artery.
Garen’s hands found the open collar of Simon’s dress shirt. He slid his thumbs over the V-neck of the cotton vest top beneath, then tucked them inside, craving the warmth of bare skin. “I’m glad you stayed.”
Simon moved his mouth to Garen’s jaw. “Me, too.”
“This is much better than living together.”
“Mm-hm.”
Garen moaned as Simon’s teeth grazed his earlobe. “Not that you wouldn’t have made an excellent flatmate.”
“Sure.” His breath against Garen’s ear made him shiver again.
“Just wanted to state that for the record.” Feeling bold,