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Hoshi stretched luxuriously under the weight that was keeping her warm and anchored to the bed. There was really nothing like a weighted blanket to help ease insecurities and ensure a comfortable night's sleep. Especially if the weighted blanket in question was a gorgeous man with a superb body, a quick, engaging mind, an enthralling voice, and a wonderful laugh. And he laughed frequently these days, at least in her company. She smiled to herself at the very thought of how his expression, usually focused and intense, changed and softened at those times.
Right now Malcolm was sprawled across her at an angle that gave her some use of her arms and legs, enough to stretch without waking him and to curve her arm so that she could run her fingers through that soft, dark hair she so enjoyed touching. His face was buried in her neck; she could feel his quiet, even breathing against her skin, and it made her want to hug herself in pleasure. Not just at the physical feeling, but that she meant enough to him to sleep in her bed, keeping her warm and safe, even if they weren't currently in a sexual relationship and he continued his work as an escort.
Hoshi supposed she should have felt jealous that Malcolm had come to her smelling of someone else - several someones, at that - but at this point she didn’t care. After all, he’d been paid for sex with them, but had come to her after his shift had ended. He’d showered while she reheated the spicy Tom Kha coconut-lime soup and Geang Tawaii curries she’d ordered from their favourite Thai restaurant, reappearing while she set out the glass noodle salad as a refresher. How could she be jealous when the beautiful man for whom others had to pay, slipped his arms around her from behind, murmuring his thanks and making clear his adoration of her before cracking an in-joke that had them both doubling up with hysterical laughter?
They’d sat on the floor, eating off the coffee table, telling each other about their days, before curling up on the couch under a blanket to rewatch one of their shared favourite movies, both too tired to concentrate on anything new. By the time the credits rolled, his head was heavy on her shoulder, and she’d had to shake him awake and guide him to bed. That domesticity was something his clients would never get to experience, and nor was the warmth of knowing that he considered her home a refuge.
She turned her head and buried her nose in his hair. It smelled like him; of cedar and tea tree and bergamot, underlaid with a spicy scent that was uniquely Malcolm. His pheromones? She didn’t know and didn’t care, simply enjoyed. Inhaling deeply, she smiled and let out a pleased little hum before realising that it might wake him and quickly stopping, but not quickly enough.
"Are you smelling me?" came his drowsy voice, raspy and deep under the clipped vowels, his breath puffing against her neck as he spoke. She suppressed a little shiver that was purely caused by goosebumps and had nothing to do with anything else. Anything at all.
"Yes," she answered quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you; go back to sleep."
He groaned and pushed his face closer against her neck, pressing his lips to her skin, as he stretched, catlike, on top of her. "You didn't," he yawned. "I've been languishing, half-awake. Couldn't go back to sleep if I tried. Besides, it's not every day I wake up to a beautiful woman sniffing my hair." He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him by simply wrapping his arms around her. “And it’s mid-morning, anyway, considering we went to bed just before sunrise. But if you want to snuggle instead of getting out of bed, I'm your man." He paused and listened. Thunder rumbled, deep and heavy, as lightning flickered against the drawn curtains. "Sounds like it's raining, so it's a pretty perfect day to stay in bed and snuggle."
"Well, now that you're off me, I need to use the bathroom, and I suspect you do, too," she chuckled. "But I could live with snuggles before our stomachs remind us that it's really time to get up."
"Good idea," he admitted. "I'll use the bathroom down the hall." So saying, they parted, rolling off opposite sides of the bed. Her ablutions completed, Hoshi took the opportunity to brush her teeth before heading back into the bedroom, feeling refreshed.
Malcolm returned from the hall and went into her bathroom himself to nab his toothbrush, coming back to the doorway while brushing his teeth. He leaned against the doorjamb and looked at her as she lay back against the pillows, her head turned to the one he'd used, breathing in his scent before her eyes opened and she noticed him watching her. His head cocked in amusement, he took the toothbrush out of his mouth and turned back into the bathroom to rinse before walking back to the bed.
"You really like the way I smell, don't you?" he teased gently as her cheeks pinked.
"It's a good scent," she mumbled as she avoided his eyes, a little embarrassed. "Comforting. Makes me happy."
He stroked her hair and bent to drop a kiss on it. "Far be it from me to deny you anything that provides you with a little comfort and joy," he said softly, then got onto the bed and held out his arms. "Snuggle time."
Gratefully she slid into his embrace, wriggling her head under his chin and her hot face against his shoulder. "You make me happy, Malcolm Reed," she muttered into his chest, so he had to strain to hear her. "Sorry if I'm weird about it. I'm trying not to be besotted, I promise."
He chuckled and drew her closer. "It's not weird, it's endearing. I like that you like me so much you want to smell me." He paused. "When I'm not here, do you sleep with my pillow?"
She didn't answer immediately, but the way she curled in on herself spoke for her. Her cheek against his shoulder grew even warmer as she nodded, and he smiled, stroking his fingers through her silky hair.
"I'll tell you a secret," he whispered, knowing she could hear him. "I like the way you smell, too. But I don't have a pillow of my own to take home with me when I'm not here. So when I am here, I sleep with my face in your neck to fill my nose with your scent."
She drew back and looked at him, surprised. "You do?" she asked, as if she couldn't quite imagine him being as taken with her as she was with him.
He nodded gravely. "I do. And I was going to ask if you would mind giving me one of your pillows to take home, but I thought that might be too weird. So I think we can be embarrassed together." He pulled her closer and dropped a kiss on her head. "Never apologise for wanting to be with me, Hoshi. Most people only want me for sex, and my body. You like my body but you like the rest of me, too. I can't begin to tell you how much that means to me."
She slid her arm around his chest and squeezed. "Most people are stupid," she informed him. Your body's superb but your mind is captivating." She pulled back and looked at him again. "Do I wish we weren't on a sexual hiatus? Sure. I'd be an idiot not to. Does it matter in the larger scheme of things? Not really. I still get to spend time with you." She reached out and stroked his cheek. "And you want to spend time with me. How could I not be flattered?"
Malcolm laughed wryly. "I still can't believe you want to spend time with me in public, not just at your home where people can't see me. Even those who're infatuated with me just want me to come to their houses and basically spend my life having sex with them. Do you know not a single one has ever even asked me my favourite book, or favourite food?"
Hoshi wrinkled her nose. "Definitely stupid people," she said dismissively. "I believe your favourite book is The Iliad, but you’re also torn between the Horatio Hornblower and Aubrey/Maturin series. And your favourite food is laksa if you can get it, mango chicken without green pepper if you can't. And your favourite fruit is pineapple." Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "Too bad those people don't know what it's like having a real relationship, where you actually think about the other person's needs and desires." Malcolm gave her a considering look and she flushed, fearing she had said too much. "Um… I mean, a real friendship. Being friends. Knowing your friends. That's all."
"Just friends," he said softly. "Nothing more."
"Just friends," she agreed, ignoring the way her heart clenched painfully at the correction.
"Just friends who sleep in the same bed, one lying on top of the other," he murmured, stroking her jaw with his thumb, his eyes following it.
She nodded, unable to speak.
"Just friends who've reached the point of needing something with the other's scent to fall asleep." His thumb drifted across her lips; his silver-sage eyes were still tracing its path along her skin. She tried to suppress a shiver, but from the way his lips curved, she knew she'd been unsuccessful.
"Ye–yes," she tried, having to clear her throat before she could force the word out properly.
"Just friends who cuddle in their underwear, and smell each other's hair and skin for comfort." Now his fingers were drifting along her jaw, to her ear, to trace along the outer shell and down the sensitive skin behind it, and this time she had no hope of containing her shiver and soft gasp.
"Th–that's right," she managed, watching his eyes, which still hadn't looked at her, but remained trained on his fingers, even as his lips curved further at her reaction, the scar over his lip becoming more prominent.
His hand slid behind her nape, pulling her face closer. "Just friends who're allowed to kiss each other as much as they want. That means I can taste these soft lips and nibble until they're swollen and even more delectable." His mouth closed over hers, gentle, exploratory, tender, until her eyes slid shut and the tiniest whimper escaped her.
As if it was a signal, his lips firmed on hers and his hand tightened behind her neck, holding her in place. Her hand clutched at his bicep as his tongue swept lightly across her lips, not pushing, politely seeking entrance. They parted on a soft sigh, allowing him to delve a little deeper, letting him close first his lips and then his teeth around her bottom lip, teasing her gently before he pulled away, his thumb still stroking her cheek.
Her eyes opened, dazed, and it took her a moment to remember what he'd been saying. "Just friends," she all but squeaked, and Malcolm laughed softly before drawing her head under his chin again.
"Thank you for still letting me play, Hoshi, even if I don't take it further," he whispered. "Thank you for working on us first."
"It's important to you, so it's important to me," she murmured, having regained her equilibrium. "And I spent eight years celibate, aside from one unfortunate lapse and one incredible experience; I can get by the way I did before. I have a decent collection of toys."
He smiled into her hair. "That you do," he agreed. "And it's not forever, after all."
"Thank all the gods," she muttered, and he laughed again. Then her stomach rumbled, and he dropped his head to kiss the tip of her nose.
"Breakfast for lunch? I'll make hotcakes and bacon if you'll make the drinks and fruit platter."
She grinned. "Let's do it. I'm famished!"
They moved like a well-oiled machine. Hoshi's kitchen was large enough to provide ample room for two people to move around. She put coffee on to brew in a French press, then sifted and whisked her matcha while Malcolm prepped the hotcake batter before slipping the plates into the oven to warm.
"I'm pretty hungry, how about you?" she asked.
"I could eat. More protein?"
"That's what I was thinking. I'll prep some eggs for you to scramble just before we eat."
"No, you carry on with the fruit. It won't take me long to beat four eggs after I've done the hotcakes and while you're plating them."
As he began cooking, she sliced fruit onto a large platter - melons, pineapple, strawberries, crunchy slices of apple that she drizzled with lemon juice, and a few mandarin segments. By then Malcolm had finished the hotcakes and started on the bacon, so she took over plating with a dollop of crémé fraiche between each of her hotcakes, topping the stack with blueberries, sliced cherries and a drizzle of maple syrup, while Malcolm's received peanut butter mixed with maple syrup and topped with chopped mixed nuts.
She laid the bacon slices on the side of the pre-warmed plates while Malcolm beat the eggs; he'd chosen American-style rashers today, instead of his preferred Irish-style back bacon, to which he'd introduced Hoshi the first time he'd cooked breakfast for her. These days she kept a package of each kind at hand to accommodate both their tastes.
Once she had set everything on the table, Malcolm scrambled the eggs quickly and efficiently over a high heat and lashings of coconut oil. "I know it's recommended to do it slowly over a low heat," he'd explained to her the first time she saw him do it, "but if you get the oil to almost smoking point, drop the eggs in and start stirring immediately so the oil emulsifies, they still come out fluffy and creamy, especially if you take them off the heat early." She'd tasted them, and couldn't deny the truth of his words.
It took less than a minute for Malcolm to have finished cooking the eggs and to divide them between two small bowls before carrying them over to the table, where Hoshi was pouring his coffee before adding hot water to her matcha shot. Casting her a smile as she grinned up at him, he handed her a bowl of eggs and seated himself opposite her.
She raised her mug, awaiting his for their ritual first toast. With a wink, he complied.
“May we win every battle.”
“And vanquish every foe.”
They grinned at each other over the rims of their cups, the rich, fragrant scents of the liquids wafting between them as they drank.
Soon enough they’d head to the living room to cuddle and read together.
It was shaping up to be a very good day indeed.