Page 43 of The Lost Art of Finding Where You Belong

Molun groaned an exaggerated sound of disappointment, one that Perian wanted to echo, because truly, he could imagine just lying here forever.

Another kiss was pressed to the top of Perian’s head.

“You can stay here and sleep in, if you like. But you”—Perian saw Arvus’s long arm poke at Molun—“need to get to work.”

Perian could hear the pout in Molun’s voice.

“Don’t wanna. Want to stay here with you and Perian where it’s warm.” He yawned. “M’tired.”

“We’re going to be late,” Arvus scolded.

“M’hm,” Molun agreed, not sounding like this bothered him in the slightest.

Arvus sighed and then the bed moved as he climbed out. But because he was the nicest man in the world, he carefully arranged the covers again, tucking them in around Perian.

“A few more minutes,” Arvus said. “That’s it.”

“I love you,” Molunmumbled.

Arvus huffed a breath, but Perian could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you too, baby.”

Perian pressed his face into Molun’s back, and Molun made a contented sound.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured, and then Perian heard his breathing even out and realized he’d gone right back to sleep. Perian was oddly not actually sleepy, but he was still full of languid contentment, like yesterday’s orgasm just had the best staying power ever. He was pretty sure he was actually capable of walking this morning, which was good, as he couldn’t really expect Arvus to carry him around everywhere.

He blushed a little as he remembered that Arvus had needed to clean him up because Perian hadn’t even been able to manage that much, but Arvus had been kind about it. (Perian was pretty sure that without him, Perian would have woken this morning stuck to the chair.)

He listened to the sounds of Arvus getting ready, splashing in the water closet and then coming back to the bedroom to get dressed. Surely, this meant Molun really did need to get up. It wasn’t nearly as tempting to stay in bed if no one else was in it. In fact, it wasn’t appealing at all.

With a sigh, Perian crawled out of bed, to the immediate protest of Molun, who roused with the movement.

“Nooo. Why are you leaving me?”

Perian laughed. “So that you’ll be on time for work and don’t lose your job and can happily live in the castle for years and years to come.”

“Too early for logic,” he protested. “Don’t want it.”

Arvus leaned down and kissed the other man, gently but firmly on the lips. “Come on, baby. Time to start the day.”

With a sigh, Molun gave in to the inevitable and headed for the water closet. Perian stretched. The wound pulled on his left arm, and he retracted it quickly.

“How are you feeling?” Arvus asked, because he was observant like that.

“Really good,” Perian assured him.

“And how’s the arm?” he asked more pointedly.

“It… twinges?” Perian said. “Aches a little, I guess. Very different from a burn. But it feels much better than it did yesterday.”

“Let’s get the bandage off,” Arvus instructed.

And since they’d done everything together last night, Perian couldn’t even find it in himself to protest. Arvus carefully unbound the wound, fingers gentle as they touched the skin.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“The doctor told me to check for redness, warmth, and dizziness. There’s been none of that.” He lifted his arm, did his best to hide his wince, and looked at it. “Seems all right.”

“Yes, it looks good,” Arvus agreed.

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