Trevor shifted again, his arm tightening slightly around the blanket, a quiet sound escaping him, something halfway between a sigh and a hum.
Lucas held his breath.
He shouldn't have kissed him. He knew that. He should've been halfway across the room by now, pretending to read, or making tea, or doing literally anything that didn't involve watching his husband sleep like some kind of obsessed teenager.
But the damage was done. His pulse was already betraying him, uneven and shallow, every breath tasting faintly of cedar and skin.
He forced his thoughts into order. 'Control it. You've lived through worse. This is fine.'
It wasn't.
The faint warmth still lingered on his lips, and the air between them seemed to hum. The scent grew, filling the space until it felt less like oxygen and more like him. Lucas's chest ached with the weight of it.
