Page 2 of Will & Patrick's Endless Honeymoon
“No, just your soul.” Will turns to help hold Patrick up, even though he’s shaking too.
“I’d agree if I believed in souls.”
“But you believe in astrology.”
“Astrology is—”
“Shh. Let’s get clean now.” Will yawns widely, his pearly whites gleaming in the light bouncing off the walls. He splashes water on the strings of come clinging to the tiles and Patrick’s inexplicably sad to see it washed away.
“Distraction. That’s a Libra move.”
“Mmm-hmm, I know.” Will grabs more soap and starts on his ass, biting his lower lip as he washes his hole.
“Leave some of me up in you,” Patrick says, his voice rough. “I like knowing my boys are in your colon looking desperately for an egg to knock up.”
Will laughs and pulls Patrick back beneath the shower stream again. “Let me help you.” The water stays warm and steady as Will soaps Patrick’s cock again, leaving them both loose-limbed and utterly sated by the time Will turns the shower off and reaches for a towel.
Back in the bedroom, Patrick grabs Will’s insulin pump from the bedside table, uncaps the infusion site cap, and reattaches the lines. “Test,” he says, handing Will the kit. “Make sure you don’t need an additional bolus.”
Will rolls his eyes but gamely pricks his finger and shrugs at the results. “All good.”
Patrick grabs the monitor to check for himself. Nodding at the readings, he hands the monitor back to Will, climbs into bed, and tugs Will into their favorite position. Then he nestles against his favorite furry pillow again and closes his eyes, ready to drift off to sleep for a few hours before he’ll need to be up early for surgery.
He’s beyond content. He’s what he’d call happy even. He and Will are just over two years into this life together, but happiness is still a reasonably new emotion for him. So he wallows in it aggressively every chance he gets, indulging in moony feelings for Will and feelinggrateful, of all things. He’s glad no one else can hear his gross, ooey-gooey thoughts.
“I love you,” Will whispers.
Patrick’s heart clenches with joy and he nuzzles his face against Will’s chest hair. “Good.”
“Just ‘good’? You don’t want to, I don’t know, reciprocate the declaration?”
“You already know how I feel.” Patrick huffs. “I married you, didn’t I? Twice. Just to prove I meant it the first time.”
Will laughs.
The sound is intimate in their warm, soft cocoon of a bed, lit only by the yellow light from the nightstands. Patrick’s not an overly sentimental man, but he reaches out to finger the medical ID bracelet on Will’s wrist, the one he’d gotten him that first Christmas, and smiles softly. “Fine. I love you,” he whispers. “Even if you should already know.”
“Oh, I know.”
Will kisses the top of Patrick’s head and it’s sweet and perfect. Their warm, naked bodies tangle together, and all they need to do is turn off the lights and drift away.
So, of course his phone picks this moment to start vibrating. And worse, playing a very specific ringtone—Drake’s “Bitch Is Crazy.”
Will groans. “I thought I told you to change that.”
“And I ignored you.”
Will grabs his own phone from the nightstand, habitually set to silent after nine at night to try to avoid family drama. Too bad theentirePatterson-Molinaro clan has Patrick’s phone number now. None of them are afraid to use it. And Patrick’s a neurosurgeon, so he can’t turn his off on a whim like Will can.
Will groans. “Three missed calls from her. It’s almost midnight. What could she want?”
Patrick rolls away from Will before passing his vibrating, Drake-playing iPhone over to him. “You answer. She’s your mother.”
Will heaves up to sitting and tugs the blankets to cover his nakedness like Kimberly is going to somehowseehim all flushed and satisfied.
“Mom, it’s late.”
Patrick can hear Kimberly’s voice clear as a bell from his side of the bed. Either she’s talking loudly or he needs to turn the volume down on his phone. Regardless, she’s annoying. He already misses the perfection of just a few seconds ago.
