Page 37 of Under Construction

Chris laughs. Low and warm. "Demanding."

"And make it good."

"When have I ever disappointed?"

"Every day at work.

"I build good. I save kittens good." His teeth graze the bruise he made on Dennis’s neck, making him gasp. "Made you moan pretty good too."

"Careful with that ego, it might not fit through doors." Dennis mutters, but his skin reignites hot where Chris’s mouth has touched it.

"Want me to prove it again?" Chris's voice drops lower. "Night's still young, princess."

"Just play the damn song."

"As you wish." Chris's smile presses against his shoulder. "Something special, just for you."

His fingers flit across the strings, and music spills into the night air.

The melody's sweet. Simple. When Chris starts humming, his voice surprises Dennis—deep and rich, nothing like his usual cocky drawl. The vibration carries through Dennis’s body, making him sink deeper into Chris's embrace.

Words flow into the night, soft and low:

What if we broke from these lines they drew?

Built something real, something new

Not what they planned, not what they see

Just who we are, just you and me...

Dennis listens, caught in the warmth of Chris's voice. It's beautiful—too beautiful to break with any of his usual sarcasm.

He risks a glance and sees Chris, eyes closed, lost in the melody, his expression unguarded.

The night wraps around them like a blanket—Chris's warm, sexy musk, the lingering taste of his kisses, their bare skin sticky where they press together, the humid air making everything feel dreamlike.

There's a weight to it, a feeling that tugs at something deep in Dennis’s chest, making the air feel still.

When the last note fades, he asks, "What song is that?"

"Something I wrote."

Dennis twists around so fast the ukulele slides off his lap, dangling from Chris's hand. "You write music?" His mouth falls open, eyebrows shooting up.

"Sometimes." Chris’s gaze doesn’t meet his eyes. "When I can't sleep."

"Do you not sleep often?"

"Not lately." Chris's fingers still on Dennis’s waist. "Too many thoughts."

"About what?"

"You really want to know?"

Dennis shifts, twisting until he's sitting sideways between Chris's legs, his hip pressed against Chris's stomach. His hand finds Chris's knee, fingertips tracing the bone there.

Chris glances at the touch, a small smile playing at his lips.

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