Peppers, onions, eggs—they had this down, and before too long, they were sitting with full plates, coffee, milk, the works.
Lord, but Dillon already seemed more relaxed, the lines around his mouth and eyes easing. It was fine to see.
Coke made himself a bacon and egg biscuit, chuckling at Dillon as the man gagged. Dillon had positions on biscuits, and all those positions involved sweet things.
Hell, the man put syrup on grits. It was bizarre.
Still, it made for good kisses.
Dillon popped open a biscuit and slathered it with butter and honey. Looked like Dillon’s sister really did know the man. That boded well.
The honey started to drip and he reached out, caught it on his finger, then sucked it clean. “Yum.”
Dillon stared, mouth open a little, eyes wide. “Uh-huh.”
“You okay, cowboy?” He loved how Dillon looked on him.
“I am. I, uh…” Yeah. Dillon was okay—Coke had seen the expression in those blue eyes more than once.
A little devil grew up in him and he stole another fingerful of honey, licked it off instead of sucking this time. “Sweet.”
“Coke, we’re eating…” Cheeks red, Dillon shifted in his seat.
“Uh-huh. I’m eating.” He thought that he could handle the idea of honey on Dillon’s cock. Hell, he’d bet his cowboy wouldn’t mind licking it off him, either. Dillon had himself a sweet tooth, too.
“You. Wow. Damn, babe.”
“Hmm?” His dick was about as hard as a rock. “I oughta put some of that on mine. I like salt and sweet together.”
God, this was fun.
“No. Only on chicken.” Dillon had taken a liking to the honey chicken biscuits at the Whataburger.
“I think it’d be okay on you.” He went right back to his food.
“I’m not sweet.” Dillon’d completely given up on eating, though, and was leaning toward him.
“No. You’re great, though.” Tasty.
“I can be bad. Really bad, if you want.”
Coke shivered, grinning as he drank his coffee. It’d been a while since they’d been relaxed enough to just…play together. “I don’t doubt that, cowboy.”
The honey bottle was the only thing that came with Dillon when he stood and held out a hand. “Come on, babe. Let me show you the bedroom.”
He reached out and twined their fingers together, only stopping to settle the bassets in the laundry room with their beds and bones.
This was never going to be Texas, but it could be somewhere to hang his hat for a while.
Chapter Seven
Coke had slept through the night. Well, mostly, save for one bathroom and water trip. Dillon was tickled enough to have a feather up his butt. He hummed and wiggled, making breakfast just like he had that first morning at Coke’s. That was a mostly, as well. At Coke’s there was no huge bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.
Coke wore jeans, two pairs of socks, and a heavy sweater, drinking coffee and laughing as the puppies played in the snow. The laugh was hearty, happy. Real.
Dillon smiled, watching long enough that the eggs almost burned.
“God, it’s pretty up here. Quiet.” Coke wandered closer, one hand on his hip as a kiss brushed his shoulder.
