"This isn't fun. This is auditory violence."
I laugh so hard I almost drop the whisk.
"Change it then."
He scrolls through options, settles on something with deep drums and rhythmic chanting.
"Better."
"That's orc battle music."
"Exactly. Motivating."
I'm about to argue when he moves behind me, hands settling on my hips.
"You're distracting me."
"You are wearing flour."
"Observant."
He kisses my neck, warm and deliberate. "Finish the dough."
"Bossy."
"You like it."
Can't argue with that.
I work while he watches, his presence solid and grounding. When the dough's set to rise, I turn in his arms.
"Hi."
"Hi."
We kiss, slow and deep, the kind that still makes my toes curl even after months of practice.
The battle music crescendos.
Korgan pulls back, listening. Then heroars, a deep, resonant sound that rattles the windows.
I jump. "What the hell?"
"Chorus. You're supposed to roar."
"It's eleven PM!"
"Music doesn't care about time."
The neighbor pounds on the wall.
Korgan ignores it, roars again.
I'm laughing too hard to stop him.
"You're insane."
"You love it."
