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I wake up in a disheveled bed, sheets twisted around my legs from last night's passionate encounter. The morning light streams through half-drawn curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The apartment smells of coffee, bacon, and something sweeter-happiness perhaps. From the kitchen comes a familiar voice, but singing a song I know with altered lyrics:
"And I love him, and I love him..."
This isn't how I expected to start the morning, but it's certainly not unwelcome. Dee seems so... comfortable. So open. So mine.
I can see Dee standing at the stove, his muscular back completely bare, the cooking apron tied loosely around his waist. The strings create a perfect frame for his exposed buttocks-firm, slightly tanned, with small dimples just above where his thighs begin.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Dee calls without turning around. "Breakfast is almost ready. Though I wouldn't mind if you wanted to... eat something else first."
"Like sausage?" I tease.
Dee's shoulders shake with laughter as he turns his head slightly, giving me a mischievous sideways glance that makes my heart skip. The apron barely covers his front, and I can see how his muscular body tapers to narrow hips.
"Something like that," he purrs, using the spatula to flip what actually appears to be sausages sizzling in the pan. "Though mine might be a bit... juicier than these store-bought ones."
He's so shameless. But after last night, there's no going back to pretending this isn't what we both want.
"I made coffee too," Dee continues, nodding toward a steaming mug on the counter. "Unless you'd rather stay in bed? I can bring breakfast there... or just bring myself."
His bare buttocks flex slightly as he shifts his weight, clearly aware of my gaze upon him.
"Both sound nice...um...I hate to be a killjoy, Dee, but I had a nightmare... You were killed in the line of duty."
Dee's playful demeanor vanishes instantly. He turns fully, apron fluttering with the movement, revealing his naked front as concern etches across his face.
"Ryo..." His voice softens, eyes darkening with emotion. "It was just a nightmare. I'm right here."
His vulnerability strikes me deeper than any bullet could. Standing there, naked except for that ridiculous apron, yet somehow the strongest man I know.
Dee abandons the stove, crossing the kitchen in three quick strides. He kneels beside my chair, taking my hands in his.
"Look at me. I'm alive. I'm safe." He presses my palm against his bare chest where his heart beats strong. "Feel that? Not going anywhere. Promise."
"God, I love you."
Dee's lips meet with mine with raw intensity, his body pressing against me as the apron does little to hide his growing arousal. The kitchen fills with the smell of slightly burning breakfast, but neither of us care.
"I love you too, Ryo," he breathes against my mouth, fingers tangling in my hair. "More than you'll ever know."
His confession hits differently today. After that nightmare, every moment feels precious.
His hands slide under my shirt, warm and insistent. "The food can wait," he murmurs, eyes darkening with desire. "But I can't."
The apron strings come undone with a gentle tug as he pulls me toward him.
"Let me prove to you just how alive I am," Dee whispers, his naked body now fully revealed. "Let me chase those nightmares away."
"Don't start a fire!" I laugh. "Turn the stove off?"
Dee laughs, diving for the stove controls while still completely naked. The apron hangs precariously from one shoulder as he turns off the burner.
"Crisis averted," he announces proudly, turning back to me with a grin. His entire body is on display-toned chest, muscular thighs, and his obvious arousal pointing directly at me.
"Safety first, right, officer?" Dee teases, sauntering back towards me. "Though I'm still planning to make something hot and steamy happen this morning."
Even in this moment of domesticity, he's irresistible. The nightmare feels distant now, replaced by the very real, very alive man before me.
"Now, where were we?" Dee murmurs, pulling me against his naked body. "Ah yes...proving I'm very much alive."
"It's ironic because you sing like an angel."
Dee's expression softens. "An angel, huh?" His voice husky. "I'd rather be your devil right now."
His warmth against me is so real. The nightmare feels like smoke compared to this solid reality.
"But I'll sing for you anytime," Dee continues, guiding my hands down his bare torso. "Though I'm thinking we could make some music together right now."
His lips find mine again, more insistent this time, as breakfast continues to cool on the abandoned stove.