![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Clifford squished the soft ripe apricot against the roof of his mouth. Bliss. He was holed up in his New York apartment for the long weekend, with the heating on max to keep out any thought of the bleak February weather, and well stocked with all the luxuries he could need. He lazily selected another perfect piece of fruit, and lounged back on the couch, scratching idly at the junction between thigh and groin with the other hand.
The sound of the antiquated lift scraping up the last few feet to his floor startled him back to full alertness. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and the other unit on the top floor was empty since dear Miss Pansy had passed on, and Wilmot the doorman should know better than to allow deliveries up … The sound of keys in the lock cut short his reasoning.
A draft of cold air proceeded the intruder.
“Clifford? It’s Anton. Are you up? I bought bagels; I thought we could have ….”
Anton trailed into silence somewhere about the middle of the word ‘breakfast’ when he rounded the corner into the small living room-kitchenette. Clifford cursed to himself as he swung to his feet.
His boyfriends never took this well, and damnit, he *liked* Anton. There wasn't really much he could say, but he had to at least try to explan. He rested one hand on Anton’s firm thigh, and looked up into those beautiful brown eyes.
“Ooook?”
The sound of the antiquated lift scraping up the last few feet to his floor startled him back to full alertness. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and the other unit on the top floor was empty since dear Miss Pansy had passed on, and Wilmot the doorman should know better than to allow deliveries up … The sound of keys in the lock cut short his reasoning.
A draft of cold air proceeded the intruder.
“Clifford? It’s Anton. Are you up? I bought bagels; I thought we could have ….”
Anton trailed into silence somewhere about the middle of the word ‘breakfast’ when he rounded the corner into the small living room-kitchenette. Clifford cursed to himself as he swung to his feet.
His boyfriends never took this well, and damnit, he *liked* Anton. There wasn't really much he could say, but he had to at least try to explan. He rested one hand on Anton’s firm thigh, and looked up into those beautiful brown eyes.
“Ooook?”
Tags: