The moment the words slipped free, Seven wanted to suck them back in. Especially when Enzo stiffened against him.
Enzo pulled back, looking a little dazed when he asked, “Really? You’d…You’d want that?”
Seven nodded slowly. “The more I think about what you said…about our moms pushing us to have kids…the more I like the idea. I don’t know if I’d be a good dad or not, but I know you would be. But, like, eventually,” Seven added, holding up his hands. “Like, not right this second. I have to finish school, and we have to start our practice, and get married, of course, and then make sure we have a place that isn’t a baby-proofing nightma?—”
Enzo cut him off with another kiss. “I hear you,” he said against his lips. “Yes to babies in, like, five years.”
Seven gave a happy sigh, letting Enzo hug him. “Yeah, that. Now, can you please finish dinner? I’m starving.”
Enzo snorted, letting him go. “Careful, brat, before I change my mind about disciplining you tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I wish.”
Seven watched contentedly as Enzo added the tomatoes, balsamic vinegar, and a pinch of something white—salt or sugar, maybe—into the pan, then covered it with the lid and lowered the temperature.
The scent was heavenly.
Enzo returned to Seven, tearing off more bread, dipping it in the oil then feeding it to him. “We’ve still got about thirty minutes. But have some carbs before your carbs. It will tide you over.”
Seven savored it. “You really are the perfect man.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m feeding you bread.”
Seven shrugged. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” He tore off a piece of bread and fed it to Enzo. “This is gonna be fun.”
Enzo’s smile was slow, warm, and just a little dangerous. “Yeah, it is.”
Seven narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you thinking right now?”
“Right now?” Enzo asked. “I’m thinking about all the ways I could fuck you on this countertop.”
His casual confession knocked the breath out of Seven. “Oh.”
Enzo grinned. “Yeah, oh.”
“Tonight?” Seven asked, letting hope bleed into his tone. “No scenes, just sex. Please?”
Enzo sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe.”
“I’ll take maybe.”
“We’ll talk over dinner,” Enzo said sternly.
“Yes, Daddy.”
They didn’t have sex.
Instead, Enzo watched as Seven stuffed himself full of pasta, cheeks puffed out like a hamster, before dramatically flopping onto the bed and groaning about feeling “bloated and gross.” Enzo had tried to bite back a smile, but he couldn’t. Even when he whined, Enzo found Seven adorable. He both loved and hated that his mother had taken one look at Seven and somehow just known he was it for Enzo.
Vince would never let him live it down.
Enzo had once prided himself on his self-control. His ability to keep things compartmentalized—work, family, sex, feelings. But somehow, this prickly porcupine of a boy had kicked in the door and demanded more. Demanded everything—his time, his attention, his respect. His love. He’d refused to settle for Enzo’s bullshit half-measures. And Enzo, god help him, had risen to the occasion.
They’d crawled into bed to watch a movie, Seven’s head nestled in Enzo’s lap. Six minutes in, he was drooling on Enzo’sthigh like a St. Bernard. Enzo had tucked them both in, burying another smile in Seven’s hair as he mumbled into his neck that he was totally awake before promptly trying to feel Enzo up while telling him how good he smelled.
Seven was so tactile. All people used their senses to navigate the world, but Seven wanted to touch everything. He wanted to feel it, smell it, taste it. He wanted to savor it. Sometimes, Enzo would find him sprawled in the center of the bed, headphones in, completely blissed out, lost in whatever music floated through them. It made Enzo more aware, too—of sounds, textures, smells. Of how quiet his life had been before this loud, greedy, perfect boy wandered into it.
He hadn’t said anything in response to Seven’s muttering. Just threaded his fingers through his hair and let himself enjoy it. How right it felt. The weight of him. The soft huff of his breath against Enzo’s throat. The nonsense he mumbled as he drifted off. Enzo had shared his bed with plenty of bodies before. But he’d never felt this much warmth. He’d never had this much peace.
