“Mhm. Can I kiss you?”
Arden had been staring shyly in the vicinity of Beckett’s chin. At this, he looked up. “Yes, please.”
“Please, he says,” Beckett murmured, then slid a hand along Arden’s jaw, leaned in, and pressed his lips to Arden’s.
He chuckled softly when Arden gasped at the sensation, and held him steady to drop a quick series of butterfly kisses onto Arden’s mouth, his chin, his nose.
Arden laughed and opened his eyes to find Beckett watching him with something like fondness. Barely believing his own daring, he reached out and rested his hand on Beckett’s cheek.
It was warm and rough with stubble, and bunched beneath Arden’s touch as Beckett grinned.
“Is it my turn?” Arden asked, growing brave under that warm approval. “May I kiss you?”
“By all means, Your Grace. Have at it.”
Arden squinted at him suspiciously for the overly polite tone, but decided Beckett was still being playful when he tapped his own lips expectantly.
Arden stared at his mouth. It was a lovely mouth. He had a full bottom lip. The top lip was narrower, with an elegant curve. The deep rose colour made it seem incongruously soft and plush amid the hard planes and angles that constituted the rest of him.
Oh.
Except for his arse, of course. That was hard with muscle, but there were no sharp angles. Just that delightfulround?—
“Arden,” Beckett said softly.
He wanted to do it like Beckett had. Soft, fluttering, light. Not the desperate mash of his mouth that had Jack telling him to calm, to be easy, but…this, instead.
This.
He caught the corner of Beckett’s smile, blindly adjusted with a little slide to the left, and lifted away. He tried again, and thenagain. Encouraged by the soft murmurs Beckett was making in response, he sank into it and kept doing it. Sweet little pecks, all over Beckett’s face.
Beckett’s honey-amber eyes were fixed on his, the pupils dark and shining. Colour slashed over his cheekbones. “That was perfect,” he said. His voice was deep and rough.
Arden beamed.
“Like it sweet, don’t you, pet?”
“Yes. Although I did also like it when you…before, not today, but before, when you…that was nice, too.”
“When I what? Got my tongue in your mouth?”
Arden blushed but held Beckett’s heavy gaze. “Yes.”
“Want me to do it now?”
Arden heaved in a short, sharp breath, and shook his head. “No?”
“You tip me the wink when you do,” Beckett said comfortably. “I am ready to give you a good tonguing whenever you fancy it.” He sat down beside Arden, and added, “Whereveryou fancy it.”
Wherever? Well, where else could it possibly go? Arden laughed.
Beckett grinned at him. “You let me know.” He picked up the sketchbook from Arden’s lap and flipped it open.
“Oh no.” Arden lunged for it. “Don’t look!”
Beckett twitched it out of his reach, his eyebrows shooting high. “Why not?”
“It’s…they’re…I’m not very good. They are doodles, that’s all.”
