Elliott woke up slowly and naturally. He had no idea what time it was, but he’d spent enough nights at Aiden’s that he wasn’t confused for more than a couple of sleepy seconds before he knew where he was.

Aiden’s bed. His California King mattress and cool, white sheets with an astronomical thread count. Easily the most comfortable thing Elliott had ever slept on, especially when stacked up against his dorm’s poor offering and his well-worn mattress at home.

Elliott looked up at the ceiling and stretched, spreading his limbs and tendons to their limits and groaning at the sweet burn and breathtaking ache. He went completely limp when it was over, relishing the aftershocks like he’d just had the best orgasm of his life.

He didn't normally lounge on Aiden’s bed. On the rare occasions that he had slept over, he picked up on Aiden’s signals in the morning and got out of there quickly so there wasn’t any awkwardness. This time, he was going to take full advantage of having the bed all to himself and an invitation to relax for a while.

At least, he was pretty sure Aiden had been serious about cooking him breakfast. He couldn’t know for sure until Aiden came back from wherever he’d run off to, but he’d sounded genuine.

Last night had been . . . weird, he decided, flopping over onto his stomach in the middle of the bed and inhaling the clean laundry scent of the pillow until he felt light-headed. It smelled like Aiden. He hadn’t even known he could recognize Aiden’s scent until that moment. Another weird thing, but, like the night before, with the dance, and the drive, and the sex with the lights off afterward, it wasn’t bad-weird. He would’ve gone so far as to say it was good-weird, rather than merely weird-weird.

He was so comfortable he felt a little bad about it. Phantom guilt was crawling out of nowhere, trying to make up reasons why he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing, because nothing sane or legal was allowed to feel so good.

Without retrieving his phone from his far-flung pants, he could still guess what time it was. The light coming in the window was pale, and his Don’t Sleep Your Sunday Away Dumbass! alarm hadn’t gone off, so it wasn’t past noon. More like nine or ten.

Wherever Aiden was, he wasn’t sleeping in, enjoying his own Sunday morning in his sinful bed. Elliott started to worry that he’d chased Aiden out without realizing it, but he didn’t think he was prone to snoring or starfishing. Aiden had certainly never complained before.

He didn’t have to wait very long for his answer, because Aiden walked through the door, cautiously peeking around it.

“Hey,” Elliott said, pushing up on his elbows.

Aiden flashed a small smile that was gone in an instant. “Hi. Sleep well?”

“As always. You?”

He shrugged, and Elliott noticed that he was wearing a worn-thin cotton shirt with a cut-out collar, and his throat and shoulders were glistening with a fine sheen of healthy sweat.

“I kind of hate you,” Elliott blurted, his brain-to-mouth filter still waking up for the day. Aiden only raised a questioning eyebrow, so Elliott rushed to explain. “I just— Who works out this early on a Sunday?”

Aiden rolled his eyes, sat down on his side of the bed, and started taking off his running shoes and socks. His back, with its thin, sweat-darkened shirt, was within inches of Elliott’s twitchy fingers.

“I hate myself a little, to be honest,” Aiden said, over his shoulder. “I would’ve liked to stay in bed, but my conscience won’t let me sleep or just relax past 9 a.m., so I might as well do something productive.”

“Oh, to be so afflicted,” Elliott said, eyeing Aiden’s sleekly bunching muscles. Aiden huffed, then they lapsed into a still, sleepy silence as Aiden toed off his shoes. Suddenly, it seemed like all the domesticity they’d been ignoring by complying with Aiden’s “low maintenance” request was catching up with them. Elliott lounging under the covers while Aiden went about his Sunday, exercising and probably starting the coffee pot. It was only going to get more couple-y from there if Aiden made good on his promise to cook breakfast.

It made Elliott a bit itchy, if he was honest, but the customer was always right. And it wasn’t exactly a hardship to eat eggs and hang out.

Elliott scratched his scalp, dislodging more of last night’s styled hairdo. He was comfortable here, in a room they’d christened with fast sex that had made their legs shake and faces clench in unflattering masks, then slow sex, painstakingly built to a roaring fire. He had no clue if he was likely to remain so comfortable if he stayed, or whether Aiden would. The best course of action, he decided, was not to sit in awkwardness as he wondered.

Flipping over onto his back, he pulled himself closer to the edge of the mattress and put a hand on Aiden’s knee, right next to his own face. Aiden stopped rolling his socks up and looked into his eyes.

“Do you want me to go?” Elliott asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Aiden tilted his head to the same angle as Elliott’s, then shook it slowly. “No. You can stay.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” Aiden leaned over and kissed him, tempting his lips in slow, shallow pulls, while one of Elliott’s hands fluttered on Aiden’s thigh and the other came up to card through his fluffy-damp hair.

Elliott hummed into Aiden’s mouth, his feet going restless on the bed, slicking down the covers just to feel the cool burn of the friction. His lips followed Aiden’s when they pulled away, clinging to their gentle, wet press.

“Okay,” Elliott said, his voice rough from more than sleep. “I’ll kick around for a while, since you asked so nicely.”

“Good.” Aiden smirked down at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Does that mean if I ask you nicely, you’ll brush your teeth too?”

Elliott squawked with outrage and scrambled up to his knees, slapping at Aiden’s ass as many times as he could until Aiden was safely out of reach behind the bathroom door. Elliott nearly fell face-first onto the carpet, but saved himself at the last minute.

He gathered up last night’s party clothes while Aiden showered, then finally retrieved his phone. He opened it up, and his thumb hovered over the bright red icon on his banking app.

Why would he check it now? It was habit, of course, to want to see the numbers in black-and-white for both comfort and motivation. But why now? He wasn’t in need of either of those things, and it wasn’t as if he could affect a change immediately.

He wouldn’t get paid for another few days. He’d do the math and decide how much he could save versus how much he could send at that time.

For now, he tucked his phone back into his pants pocket and folded it with the rest of his things, then got in one more half-hearted smack at Aiden’s impressively hard butt as he passed him to have his own shower. The noise wasn’t as satisfying through a thick layer of towel.

When he was finished with the many punishingly pressurized jets of the shower—and the extra toothbrush, because he was a considerate guest—he had a few minutes to himself to stare into the steamed-up mirror. He looked a little tired. He hadn’t had a drop of alcohol to drink, but he was a bit hungover regardless from the late night and the water and salt he’d sweated out under the bright lights on the dance floor.

For a hot second, he considered begging off and going home for some beauty sleep, but he had plenty of reasons to stay. Oddly, the most important one wasn’t that he’d get paid for his time. This morning felt more like his off-hours.

Finding some soft Sunday clothes to borrow wasn’t difficult. It was harder to find ones that fit, but eventually he found flannel pj pants that had a drawstring, and he gave up entirely on finding a shirt that was tight enough for him, going for the opposite effect instead.

Always working, he congratulated himself wryly, as he deliberately chose a shirt with a wide neck that would do nothing to hide his collarbones or at least one shoulder. Aiden didn’t have a neck thing, necessarily, but he wouldn’t say no, and who was Elliott but an exemplary employee who went the extra mile?

When Elliott entered the kitchen, Aiden, who was at the stove and also in pj’s, raised an eyebrow, but didn’t otherwise comment on his revealing choice of outfit. He didn’t immediately start drooling, either, but Elliott wasn’t worried.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Elliott said, gesturing at the borrowed clothing. “I didn’t really want to wear my rented stuff from last night.”

Aiden nodded at the contents of the pan he was poking with a rubber spatula. “Makes sense. You should be comfortable on the weekend.”

“Exactly.” Elliott walked over to the marble-topped counter and hopped up onto it, perching on the edge and peering into the steaming pan.

“Hope you like scrambled,” Aiden said, tilting it so that Elliott could get a better look at the squidgy yellow mass of egg. “I never could get the hang of any other way to do it.”

“Nah, scrambled is good. Easy and quick is the best way to do pretty much anything.”

Aiden paused his scraping of the bottom of the pan and gave Elliott a mischievous squint. “You sure about that?”

Elliott grinned and swung his feet back and forth in front of him. “Okay, fair point. You win this round, Mr. Prosecutor.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. The prosecution requests a recess while breakfast is served.”

“Granted. You need help?” He didn’t know the layout of Aiden’s kitchen well enough to be very efficient, but he could try. He braced his hands on the counter, sliding closer to the edge.

Aiden waved the eggy spatula at him and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. You stay there.”

Elliott drummed his fingers against the counter as Aiden grabbed some plates from one of the many cupboards and served up the contents of the pan.

“You had eggs in your apartment, eh?” Elliott couldn’t resist needling. “I thought you didn’t like to take up fridge space with food that required assembly.”

Aiden stilled for half a second, then admitted, “I had them delivered. They got here while you were in the shower.”

Elliott didn’t bother to keep his laughter inside. Aiden could take it, and his unwillingness to store a normal amount of perishable food in his kitchen was hilarious to Elliott, who didn’t really have a choice, without a kitchen of his own.

“Yeah, yeah,” Aiden said, rolling his eyes, then reaching next to the fridge for four pieces of fresh toast, which he dropped swiftly on their plates, before rubbing his fingertips together. “But I did have bread and even some butter. Toast is not too much of a hassle for me, if you can believe it.”

They ate in the brightly lit kitchen, Aiden standing by the stove and Elliott sitting, slumped on the counter in a way his back would probably complain about later. The eggs were no better or worse than the ones he made for himself and his dad when he visited home. Aiden rinsed their plates in the sink, refusing again to let Elliott help.

“So.” Elliott slapped his hands down on his knees, thumping his heels on the cupboards underneath him. “It’s Sunday morning. Aiden Kent is awake, fed and watered, and looking for something to do with the rest of his weekend. What’s the usual plan?”

“That depends,” Aiden said, then he wedged himself between Elliott’s relaxed knees, placing his hands on the counter on either side of Elliott’s thighs. “Is Elliott Meyer also awake and looking for something to do?”

“Oh, yeah.” Elliott widened his legs further and leaned back, dragging his foot up the back of Aiden’s knee. “I’m awake.”

The second kiss Aiden gave him that day was deeper, hotter, and had more tongue involved than the first. Elliott hummed into it, his spine arching into Aiden’s body and arms, which wrapped around his lower back in an instant.

“I’m very awake,” he mumbled into Aiden’s mouth.

“Good. Stay that way, and don’t move.”

Aiden did the moving for him. He pulled Elliott’s hips closer to the edge of the counter, then grabbed the waistband of his pajamas and tugged them down and off in a smooth motion that Elliott was jealous of. Next, he knelt and manhandled Elliott’s legs until they were over his shoulders, framing his head as he looked up with a heat in his expression that told Elliott exactly what he was planning.

Elliott could barely breathe. It’d been a long time since he’d been on the receiving end of this. He fidgeted as Aiden kissed up the inside of his thigh, too impatient to sit and let it happen. His fingers twitched and plucked at the counter as Aiden drew closer and closer, his breath warm on Elliott’s cock, then his lips—

“God,” Elliott moaned when Aiden took him inside. The summer swelter of his wet mouth cradled him gently, then sent sparks of pleasure up his spine and down his trembling legs. His hips tensed and he fought against jerking forward with every suck and flick.

The counter was too high and the angle too awkward for Aiden to take much of him in, but Elliott didn’t care. He didn’t need pornographic deep-throat action to be helplessly turned on, and Aiden’s skilled tongue kept yanking high whimpers and tortured sounds from Elliott’s throat.

He didn’t last long. Between Aiden’s spit-slick hand covering the parts his lips couldn’t reach and the gorgeous, humid suction, he was tensing all over and falling back onto the countertop in minutes, his hands and elbows squeaking on the slippery marble.

He panted there, dazed and drained, until he felt Aiden moving his feet around, slipping his pajama pants back on. He grinned, lolled his head to the side, and slurred, “I could’ve done that. Just gimme a second.”

“It’s okay.” Aiden lifted Elliott’s hips, just like he had to take them off, then snapped the waistband when they were in place, but not enough to actually hurt. Elliott grunted and pushed up slowly until he was sitting again.

“Come here,” he said, tugging Aiden back between his legs. Aiden came willingly, resting his jaw in Elliott’s cupped hands and accepting a chaste peck on the lips. “There’s more where that came from,” Elliott said. He made loud kissy noises, then poked Aiden in the stomach. “But now you have to brush your teeth again.”

Aiden laughed, helped Elliott down off the counter, then left. A few minutes later, the sink turned on.

Elliott stretched out on the couch while he waited, checked his email, and got back to his dad, who’d texted him about another officer on the force who was retiring early to go raise goats in Oregon.

He rested his head on his hands, smiling up at the ceiling. He had reading to do at home, but nothing he couldn’t handle. His body was still tingling and loose after a fantastic blowjob he didn’t even have to return until he was finished with the afterglow. Not a bad way to spend an early shift.

Aiden lifted Elliott’s feet and sat down beneath them, keeping them in his lap with a solid, warm hand around his ankle.

“Business as usual?” Elliott asked. “Book or movie?”

“Movie.” Aiden squinted. “Sort of. On Sundays, I usually watch something a little different.”

Elliott waited, his curiosity piqued, while Aiden turned on the TV and found what he wanted on Netflix. Elliott’s eyes widened with disbelief when he stopped on a brightly colored kids’ cartoon. Elliott had seen reruns of it when he was a kid.

“Cartoons?” Elliott said, staring across the couch at Aiden in a way that probably wasn’t the most attractive.

“I like them.” Aiden shrugged, almost managing nonchalance, but falling short with the embarrassed dip of his stubbled jaw.

“This is why you always want people to leave right away in the morning,” Elliott guessed. “So that you can get your Nickelodeon fix.”

“Not every morning. Only Sundays, when I don’t have anything better to do.”

“I could say something here about you having at least one better thing to do.”

“Please don’t. I already made that joke, remember?”

“Fine.” He twisted around on the couch so that he was on his side, with a clear view of the TV screen. “I am entirely ready to feel guilty about this pleasure. Hit me with that nostalgia.”

In some ways, the morning felt like playing hooky from school and work for no reason other than because he hadn’t wanted to go.

Eventually, the ticking timer of how long he could convince himself to go without doing his work ran out, and he returned Aiden’s favor on his knees to the soundtrack of zany circus music from the television. It was surreal, but not entirely off-putting. He loved it when Aiden started off pretending to ignore him. It felt like an in-joke between them, and the payoff when Aiden could no longer stay cool and collected was great.

He left soon after because he saw Aiden check the time twice within ten minutes, a one hundred percent increase from the previous hour. He didn’t let it get weird and wasn't offended by Aiden not trying to convince him to stay while he did his laundry, because that was what Aiden paid him for.

Well, besides the obvious.

“And then we watched cartoons for, like, three hours. It was the freakiest morning after ever.”

“I bet.”

Elliott heard a clinking on Kevin’s end of the phone line. He didn’t care that Kevin was doing his dishes while Elliott rambled about his weekend—omitting incriminating details—because he’d done the same thing before during other Sunday catch-ups.

Elliott drummed his fingers against the heavy hardcover textbook he could only ever read in his room because of its obnoxious weight, which prevented it from fitting comfortably in his bag. “He really didn’t seem the type to go in for mindless entertainment geared toward millennials.”

“What type did he seem?”

“Well, based on what we usually watch, I’d expected him to stick exclusively to thinky, arty Oscar winners, with the occasional smart action movie thrown in for something relaxing.”

There was a pause, and a noise like something heavy being set down. “You watch movies with him a lot?”

“Yeah, all the time.” That wasn’t all they did, especially after the first couple of weeks, since they’d gotten through the backlog of Aiden’s To Be Watched list. They mostly read together, or sometimes, Aiden ate dinner while Elliott talked his ear off about anything and everything.

“Uh-huh.” Elliott could hear the smile in Kevin’s voice, could picture his face perfectly. He immediately panicked, because that face never led to anything good. “How long have you been watching movies with this guy? I thought you said he was an awkward morning after.”

“Oh.” Elliott wished he could rewind and clap his hand over his flapping mouth. “Well, yeah, it was a bit awkward, but we aren’t strangers. It’s the same guy I told you about a while ago.”

A moment of silence followed, in which Elliott would have been willing to swear Kevin’s grin got more gleeful. “I thought it might be. He sounds cool.”

“He is,” Elliott admitted, hoping it would give his best friend some comfort. Kevin worried about him enough without Elliott telling him the entire truth: Well, I thought he was going to ignore me before and after we fucked, then kick me to the curb when he was done, but he’s actually decent and can hold an intelligent conversation about pretty much anything, which has somehow become sort of a kink for me.

“So, is that a thing?” Kevin asked excitedly. “Are you having cozy movie nights with a guy, and you didn’t even tell me?”

“Nooo,” Elliott said, sitting bolt upright in bed. The heavy textbook fell off his chest, and he only just caught it, preventing his offspring-siring years from being cut short. “I mean, yeah, we watch movies, sometimes there’s popcorn. Usually there’s one or both of our dicks involved—”

“Ugh, PG-13, Elliott!”

“But it’s casual. We’re not dating, we aren’t meeting each other’s friends or family, and we’re definitely not serious. At all. Ever.”

Kevin sighed. “Okay, okay. Point made. Studly lawyer dude isn’t marriage material.”

“One, how dare you use the word ‘studly’ in my earshot. Second, I hate you for it and I want to throw up.”

“Serves you right for putting your dick into my mind. God, that sounds wrong. And anatomically impossible.”

Elliott grinned and lay back down on the bed, the textbook poking him in the hip to remind him that he should probably get back to it. “Hey, virtual sex is the way of the future.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“That goes without saying, bro.”

“Hello?”

“In here,” Elliott called, not putting down his book. He’d just gotten into a perfect reading position for the weight of this particular tome—on his back with his feet propped against the end of the couch so that he could balance the book on his knees without his arms getting sore. It’d taken him forever to get there. He wasn’t about to get out of it if Aiden was going to take fifteen minutes to remove his lawyering clothes.

“I’m so sorry, Elliott,” Aiden said, his voice getting closer to the living room. “I was in court today and we thought we’d be done by four at the latest.”

“It’s no big. I got some stuff done.” Elliott turned to the next page. He was so close to the end of the chapter he could smell it.

Another big difference between his current entanglement and his last one was that he was a lot more productive. Innes had used his allotted time to drag Elliott off to clubs or parties before he dragged him off to bed. His evenings out had been a complete wash when it came to accomplishing things. Aiden, on the other hand, didn’t care whether he read for school or pleasure, as long as they spent at least thirty minutes a week with their legs tangled up on the couch, melting the tension from his broad shoulders.

Aiden put his briefcase down on the coffee table next to Elliott’s head but said nothing. There was a rustling—probably Aiden taking off his coat—which was distracting enough that Elliott glanced over.

“Holy business suit, Batman,” he said, flopping the book down on his chest and taking in the full splendor of Aiden’s clothes. “Damn. Why didn’t I know you looked so good like this?”

Aiden paused in the act of shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and looked down at him with a quirked brow. “You’ve already seen me in a suit.”

Elliott sat up, groping for his bookmark and shoving it in so he could abandon the book on the coffee table. “Yeah, but that was like . . . a rich and fancy suit. This is an everyday, go-to-work, bring-home-the-bacon suit. It’s different.”

“Is it?”

The suit Aiden was wearing could probably cover the cost of Elliott’s entire wardrobe. It made Elliott want to set fire to his overstuffed closet and let it burn along with the piles of old tees and cheap button-ups.

“Oh, yeah.” Elliott got up and stood in front of Aiden, then he smoothed his hands down Aiden’s lapels. On the way back up, he slipped his fingers underneath them and started pushing the jacket off Aiden’s shoulders. Aiden didn’t resist, just glanced down with a little smile on his face while Elliott undressed him. Apparently, he wasn’t too tired after his long day to skip right to the activity portion of their evening. There would be plenty of time for no-strings relaxing after Elliott got him out of that suit.

Once the jacket was in a pile on the floor, a thorough ironing in its future, Elliott got distracted by Aiden’s tie. Up close, both the tie and the suit had more blue in them than he’d thought, making the medium gray more stormy. He played with the strip of fabric, letting the silky grain slip through his fingers and over his wrists. Elliott wasn’t normally into being tied up, but it was on the Allowed list. They hadn’t worked their way through many of the bullet points, so maybe it was time to drop some hints. He could think of a couple of things he could do with the tie he was fingering . . .

Aiden’s hands came up and encircled Elliott’s wrists, squeezing firmly, just shy of pain. Elliott looked up, surprised and even more turned on. Aiden’s gaze was hungry and dark, his eyes glittering impatiently.

“Come on, Elliott,” he said, loosening his grip on Elliott’s wrists.

“What?” Elliott asked, his eyes widening in a way he knew made him resemble a Bratz doll. In a good way, he was pretty sure.

“Get on with it.”

“Or what?” Elliott challenged, a devilish impulse spurring him on. “You’ll spank me, Daddy?”

Aiden’s whole body jerked and his hands tightened again. It was a risky move, calling him that, but Aiden would probably laugh it off and just make Elliott promise never to mistreat his erection like that again.

He didn’t expect Aiden to go so utterly still and silent.

“Did you . . . like that?” Elliott purred.

Aiden huffed and gave a tiny shake of his head, his face spasming with some unidentifiable expression. But the tension was still there, squaring his shoulders, firming his jawline until it could cut glass.

“You sure?” Elliott pressed. “I’ve been known to behave pretty badly. I might need Daddy to teach me a lesson.”

“Elliott,” Aiden growled.

“What?”

From so close, Elliott could see Aiden’s pulse beating in his neck, and feel the increase in his breaths. Aiden hadn’t moved an inch, not to pull him close and ravish him, but not to fling him away in disgust either.

An answer from Aiden didn’t seem to be forthcoming, so Elliott pulled his hands out of Aiden’s grip and loosened the tie, getting it out of the way so he could reach the buttons of Aiden’s dress shirt.

He hummed as he bared Aiden’s collarbones and his upper chest. “I wish you’d told me you liked it. I would’ve called you Daddy ages ago.”

Aiden flinched again, and his hands flew to Elliott’s rib cage, pulling him in and burying his face in Elliott’s neck. “That’s not—” Aiden mumbled. “It’s just . . .”

“Weird? Maybe,” Elliott acknowledged. “We might both need therapy.”

Elliott kept on unbuttoning Aiden’s shirt, pulling the tails out of his pants to get to the bottom. As he reached for the button on Aiden’s slacks, he planted a single biting kiss on Aiden’s exposed neck, relishing the shudder it caused, and the squeeze of Aiden’s tightening grip on his waist.

“I could stop,” Elliott said softly, breathing into the shell of Aiden’s ear. “I would, if you asked me. I’d never say it again. But first, you have to tell me to. Say to me that you don’t like it, and you won’t hear it anymore.” He nipped Aiden’s earlobe and let his hand travel down from the waistband of the suit pants. “Daddy.”

With an animalistic growl, Aiden took Elliott’s mouth in a wild, hard kiss. Elliott gave as good as he got, digging his fingers into Aiden’s hair. He groaned when Aiden put his hands under Elliott’s ass and lifted him, using his height and strength to carry him to the bedroom. They barely stopped kissing during the short journey.

Elliott bounced after Aiden dropped him onto the bed, then immediately lay back so he could undo his jeans. Aiden helped, yanking them down his legs as soon as he’d shed his own unbuttoned clothing. When Elliott threw off his T-shirt, Aiden turned him over onto his front and made him get on his hands and knees.

“Yeah,” Elliott panted, blood pounding in his ears. “Give it to me. Come on, Daddy.”

He heard the sound of the bedside drawer opening, then the squelch of lube on fingers. He didn’t look up, just breathed with his head hanging down between his arms, fists clenching the comforter in anticipation.

With practiced ease, Aiden’s fingers opened him up. They’d done this so many times by now, Elliott didn’t even need to tell Aiden he was ready. Aiden knew by the pitch of Elliott’s moans and the toss of his head.

Aiden entered him in one forceful push, without much more warning than the absence of his fingers in Elliott’s hole. Elliott lost his balance and face-planted into the mattress, but recovered quickly so he could push back into Aiden’s powerful thrusts.

Despite Elliott’s best efforts, he still jolted forward every time Aiden’s hips connected with his ass, and it didn’t help that his arms and legs went weak with each glance of Aiden’s dick over his prostate.

Elliott’s elbows gave out when Aiden started stroking the space above his ass, running spread hands over the depressions beneath his lower back. Elliott was incredibly sensitive there, and he moaned into the blanket on each pass.

Aiden’s low, continuous panting started gaining voice, accompanying each driving thrust of his hips with an open-mouthed groan. The sounds resonated in Elliott’s ear when Aiden leaned down, scooping Elliott into his arms and yanking him up so that Elliott’s back was against his chest. Elliott shouted at the deeper penetration, shivering as the slight breeze from their sudden movement lit up his leaking, red cock.

“Say it,” Aiden growled. His thrusts lifted Elliott up, reaching deep each time. “Beg me.”

Elliott’s chest quavered with his neediness, his fingers clutching at Aiden’s anchoring arms. “Please. I need it, Daddy, please, fuck—”

Aiden’s hand unwrapped from Elliott’s waist and fisted Elliott’s dick with quick, twisting strokes. His thrusts picked up speed, keeping time with his hand. With a yell, Elliott was catapulted into orgasm, and he slumped forward, writhing while Aiden chased his own.

The onslaught of sensation was a lot; he was oversensitive and raw, every emotion closer to the surface of his flushed skin. He was about to ask Aiden to pull out before Aiden thrust hard one last time, then his only movements were full-body contractions as he came deep inside of Elliott.

Neither of them moved for a while after that. Elliott rested on his elbows, the blanket under his cheek damp with his heavy breaths. Aiden’s hands dented the mattress next to his head, and Aiden was panting just as hard as he was. His skin tingled from the passage of air over the thin sheen of sweat on his back.

When their respiration reached a normal level and things started to get sticky and uncomfortable, Aiden pulled out. Other than a wince, Elliott didn’t move much even then. He just stretched his legs out and groaned, not looking forward to getting up to fix the sticky and uncomfortable problem.

He snaked a clumsy hand between his chest and the bed, like he could hold in rippling unnameable emotion that made him want to curl up. His lungs shuddered with the euphoria of great sex and shared contentedness, but something in his chest twinged. The idea of getting out of bed to deal with cleanup while Aiden entered his normal undead state made him bury his face in the mattress.

The bed dipped next to him, and he started to roll over, but stopped when he saw Aiden stand, then shuffle over to the en suite. Elliott almost laughed at the zombielike slackness of Aiden’s face.

But he wasn’t about to make fun of Aiden for taking a turn at cleanup for once. Elliott normally didn’t mind doing it. Aiden almost always made sure Elliott came his brains out, unless Elliott didn’t want to, so who was Elliott to complain that Aiden never volunteered to deal with the aftermath? It was just a quirk Elliott was happy to have noticed.

Aiden came back after a few minutes, slightly damp all over, with a washcloth in hand. Elliott’s breath hitched a couple of times as he let Aiden move him around, but he kept it under control.

“Shit,” he said, after Aiden came back from tossing the washcloth in the sink. “I’m wrecked. Can I stay?”

“That’s fine,” Aiden said, climbing under the blanket while Elliott stayed on top, his body still weak. Then, Aiden leaned over, cupped Elliott’s jaw in a damp hand and kissed him.

They kissed all the time. It was one of Aiden’s favorite things to do, and there’d been a handful of nights that that was all they did. Sliding their lips together until they were chapped and bruised.

This kiss wasn’t different. A kiss was a kiss was a kiss. Aiden still knew how to take charge, how to lead Elliott’s tongue where he wanted it.

It made no sense that this time, out of all the other times their lips had kissed, Elliott didn’t want to let go.