Page 35 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
When Kensley entered the kitchen in fresh board shorts and a sleeveless tee, seared fish filets were finishing off in the oven with a pan of roasting potatoes, while Bishop completed a simple garlic-lemon sauce on the stovetop. Kensley strolled with ease and confidence now, and it was a beautiful change to see.
“I’ve changed my mind, this is what heaven is,” Kensley said. “A handsome, half-naked man cooking me dinner in a gorgeous beach house.”
“It’s our heaven for right now. Wine? There’s a bottle of white that will go perfectly with the fish.”
“Okay.”
Bishop poured them each a glass from a chilled bottle of chardonnay, then handed one to Kensley. Bishop wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but he wanted tonight’s meal to be…well, romantic. Wasn’t wine romantic?
Kensley sniffed the rim of the glass, pert nose wrinkling. “Here’s to new experiences.” He tipped the glass and the pale-yellow liquid slipped between his pink lips. Bishop watched, entranced by the simple sight, and then happy when Kensley grinned. “Okay, this is pretty good. When can we eat?”
Bishop glanced at the microwave’s timer. “About four more minutes. Just enough time to set the table.”
“I’ll—”
“No, I’ll do it. You enjoy the wine.”
“If you insist.” Kensley took his glass to the table and sat, his gentle smile never wavering.
Bishop couldn’t explain his bone-deep need to take care of Kensley: to cook and serve and pamper this man, when he’d never done this for a romantic partner. Not that he’d ever had a romantic partner before. And this thing between him and Kensley? It was deeper than romance. Deeper than anything Bishop could describe or quantify, except with the word charus.
The fated charum was as mythical to him as the word soulmates or one true love. Things people whispered about, words tossed around in movies by paid actors. Not anything he’d given credence to in real life. But he truly did feel like Kensley was the other half of him, missing his entire life, and now he was complete. Whole.
No matter the word, he had to protect it.
He delivered cutlery and napkins to the table, followed by their plated food. Kensley’s eyes shined like someone beingserved a gourmet meal of lobster, caviar and the rarest summer vegetables, when it was simple fish and potatoes. But it was more than the food. It was the effort. It was someone else doing for Kensley, when Kensley had spent the last fourteen years of his life in service to others.
“It smells amazing,” Kensley said. “We so rarely got to eat fish. What kind is this?”
“Snapper. I’m not well-versed in fish cookery, though, so I apologize if it’s a little overdone.”
“Like I’d know if it was.”
The fishwasa little overcooked, but neither of them complained, and Bishop refilled Kensley’s glass twice before they finished eating. Kensley’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright, and he was definitely tipping from loose into drunk, even with all the food. He had no tolerance to speak of. They both washed the dishes, because Bishop didn’t quite trust Kensley not to drop a plate, especially when Kensley blew suds at him and started giggling.
Tonight was going to end a bit sooner than Bishop had hoped, but that was okay. They had at least two weeks here on the island, maybe longer, depending on what was happening back home. Once the kitchen was in order, he led Kensley into the living room. It had a long sectional sofa, and he settled them on the side closest to the huge windows. They had a great view of the dimming sky and rising stars.
Kensley rested against his chest, one hand plucking at the hem of Bishop’s shorts. Bishop grabbed that hand and rested it over Bishop’s heart instead. “Relax for a while,” he whispered. “There’s no rush.”
“Mmm. S’there more wine?”
“If you have any more, you’re going to pass out.”
“Keep me safe if I do?”
“Always.” He pressed his lips to Kensley’s temple. “You’re mine, Kens.”
“Yeah.”
Bishop stared out the window at the darkening sky, while Kensley relaxed and slowly fell asleep in his arms. The occasional bird flew past, and he faintly heard the crash of the surf far beyond his line of sight. It was almost a perfect moment.
So perfect that Bishop fell asleep. He woke in near-darkness, aware of Kensley squirming on his lap. Bishop’s instant alertness clocked no dangers in the room, just Kensley moving down the couch and tugging on the waistband of Bishop’s shorts. Freeing his dick. He didn’t object when Kensley took him into his mouth. Sucked him to a full erection. Shed his own clothes and knee-walked up the length of the couch.
Bishop helped Kensley guide his cock into Kensley’s wet, waiting hole. They took their time, moving together in the darkness, the only sounds their own labored breathing, and the occasional squeak of the couch springs. He let Kensley lead them to their climaxes, neither of them censoring their cries. There was no need to, no one to hear or shame them for their pleasure.
For finding such beauty in each other.
After lazing together in the afterglow, they rose to shower. Dried each other off. Kissed in bed until the sun rose, and they slept again.
