He’d held that. In his hand. He’d stroked it. It had been hard and hot and wonderful and—
“Like what you see?” Simon asked lazily, leaning on his elbow.
Alex swallowed past a dry throat. “Yeah.”
“Want to see it some more?”
Alex yanked his attention to Simon’s chocolate-brown eyes and saw only gentleness there. He nodded emphatically. “Yes. Oh, absolutely. No question.”
“Good.” Simon smiled, those eyes sparkling with wicked promise now. “Then, sure. We can have coffee, eat some breakfast, brush our teeth, use the bathroom, shower—all the human morning things. But, Alex?”
“Mm?” Because an image of sitting next to Simon at the breakfast table and talking—just talking—was warring with an image of all those things Alex had been fantasizing about but had never found anyone to do them with.
“I would really like to end up back here sometime this morning.” He gave a sleepy, sexy, satisfied smile, his glossy hair mussed in the most perfect of ways. “With you.”
Alex bit his lip and looked away. “Uhm, yeah, okay.” Glinda whined, and he bent and scooped her wriggling little fluffy body up, grateful for the distraction. “But first….” And with that, he fled to the kitchen, where he made sure Glinda got her very special wet food on her little mat. She made little snorfling sounds as she dug into her nosh, and Alex turned to the refrigerator—the small everyday one, not the huge catering refrigerator in the garage.
“What do we have?” he murmured. “What do we have, what do we…?” He paused and made a little “aw” sound.
“What?” Simon asked, coming out of the bedroom dressed in—oh God.
“Those don’t fit!” Alex told him, eyes large.
“Well, no,” Simon admitted. “I’m thinking I might need to borrow something from your friend Jordan—or Josh. But Josh is a little, uh, beefy, and—”
“He works out,” Alex said, still eyeballing Simon’s tall, lanky body stretching out one of his pairs of sweatpants and a T-shirt. The result was Alex could see every detail of his body—nipples, washboard abs, sculpted thighs, cock—in clear relief as his own clothes plastered themselves around him.
Simon grinned. “You’re going to make me self-conscious,” he teased.
“You’re… God. A-a god. You’re a god. I mean, the jeans, the T-shirts—I thought I knew what was underneath, but this? This is….” He shook his head in amazement. “Damn.”
Simon’s grin widened, and he moved to the refrigerator to wrap his arms around Alex’s waist and nuzzle his neck. “You flatter me, sir. Particularly now that I’ve seen what clean living can do for a body.” He cupped Alex’s hips and undulated against him. “Particularly your body. But what was that little sound you made?”
Alex laughed and reached into the fridge, then pulled out a foil-wrapped pan with Sausage Pie, bake for 30 minutes, let cool for ten written on a Post-it on top.
“Bartholomew left breakfast,” he said happily. “Or, well, brunch. There’s cut-up fruit in there too, and a couple loaves of poppy-seed bread.” He wiggled his backside against Simon’s front. “It was really nice. He must like you. Here, let me put this in the oven and shower, and then you pop into the shower and I’ll run and get you clothes. How’s that?”
“Or you could just put last night’s clothes in the washer, and I can wear these to breakfast.” Simon laughed gently.
Alex pulled out of the fridge and closed the door with his hip, looking everywhere but into Simon’s eyes. “You’ll distract me,” he said seriously.
“From what? Operating heavy machinery? Brain surgery? What?”
“Forming complete sentences!” Alex wailed, setting their breakfast on the counter before resolutely turning the oven to preheat. “We… we have things to figure out today, Simon. We can’t keep having Glinda disappear to your house. Not that I don’t love seeing you, but it’s dangerous for her! And the spell we cast last night, for Dante and Cully, it didn’t work, and… and….” He gave Simon an agonized look. “And you and me need to sort things a little, and—”
Simon stopped him with a kiss, and all of the reasoning and sorting and agenda flew right out of Alex’s head, which was something that had never happened to him before, but he was too stupid with the kiss to mind.
A few breathless moments later, Simon pulled back and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Look,” he said kindly, “you’re right. We have things to do. And I’d love to kiss you with fresh breath, you have no idea. So I’m going to go along with your plan right now—it’s a good one—but