Page 93 of Xerxes Ascendant
I’d take either if it means your hands are involved
Akira
You’re incorrigible.
Kyle
And yet, still your favourite employee
Akira
…one of them.
Kyle
RUDE
Akira
Also accurate.
Kyle
I need you in the office, Master
ASAP
Akira
You’re not on shift anymore.
Kyle
Exactly ;)
Akira
On my way.
CHAPTER 28
Kyle
The bedroom suite Kyle was standing in was neat and clean, but also devoid of personality. It was austere in appearance, as sparsely decorated as the room they’d been kept in by the Carrion, and wasn’t that disconcerting, that Akira’s own bedroom should resemble their former prison?
Kyle peered dubiously at the painting hung on the wall above the meticulously made double bed. It bore the only splash of colour in the room: a red umbrella cast against a void of blue that he assumed was meant to represent sky.
It was...not Akira at all. Although redwashis favourite colour, Kyle rationalised, struggling to connect the bland, lifeless artwork to the complex heart of his man. But if he’d had to choose a painting to watch over Akira’s sleeping form each night, it would be...enigmatic. Something abstract, perhaps, with a multitude of shadows and lines that didn’t make sense until you’d stared at it long enough, or which offered different meaning depending on the angle at which it was viewed. Something that helddepth.
Akira exited the adjoining bathroom, scrubbing absently at his dark hair with a towel. His eyes slid over the painted umbrella and straight to Kyle, disregarding the artwork. Kylewondered if he’d even been the one to choose it or whether it had just appeared on the wall one day, a wife’s attempt to bring life to a space in which Akira clearly didn’t spend much time.
Kyle gestured awkwardly at the bed, where he’d spent an inordinate amount of effort attempting to fold his used towel in a way that matched the neatness of the rest of the room. It still looked pathetic, its edges misaligned despite his best efforts, and a poor imitation of the carefully rolled form he’d been handed it in before his shower.
Akira’s mouth twitched.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t get it quite right,” Kyle began, but the stammering apologies were silenced when Akira carelessly dropped his own towel on top, the fabric landing in an inelegant heap.
“Kyle.” The chastisement was gentle, appreciated, and yet entirely thwarted by how his boyfriend stood naked before him, the delectable and distracting lines of his body making Kyle stare. All that masculine elegance and hidden strength. “What is it you always say to me? You don’t need to be something you’re not?”
