6

-Malcolm-

I WAKEup with North naked and wrapped around me. I don't move, but it's not because I'm scared—I stopped being scared of North's affection some time ago—it's because I'm happy. Yeah, weird. But I want to stay here like this for as long as possible. Even though I'm half-naked myself and the patches of dry cum and lube feel tight on my skin. Even though a small part of my brain is telling me I need to get up and have a shower, go for a run, eat. Not to waste a second of the day. I tell it to take a hike and pull North in tighter.

After a while he stirs and his eyes open in sleepy cracks. He rolls his head, looks at me, and smiles gently.

"Morning."

"Hi," I say.

I've woken up with him so many times now, but it still feels like the first time. Only now, the anxiety that used to gnaw at me has turned into something more like excitement; a pleasant tingle of nerves that I'm here, and so is he.

I lean down and shyly kiss him, almost an experiment, just to check I can. This time, just like every other time, nothing bad happens. His lips are soft and warm, still half-asleep, and he hums a waft of morning breath.

We fell asleep without eating anything or washing up, and after the workout I put him through last night it doesn't seem fair to make him get up and go for a run. So we start the morning slowly, washing each other in the en suite shower.

After that it's breakfast in the sunroom, enjoying the thin rays of light coming through the glass that warm the room despite the wintry sky outside. I add a little cinnamon to his grits, a recipe I found online, and he hums appreciatively as he shovels it into his mouth with his usual gusto. Everything feels so right. So comfortable.

Once we've eaten, we get ready to head to college. North has classes first thing, and I always go in with him, even though I don't have anything until later. Once we're dressed he goes to grab his stuff from the spare room, and a moment later he calls through the open doorway.

"Mal? What's this?"

I go through. He's standing next to the desk where he has his study sessions. Between the stacks of books is a slimline matte-black laptop, sleek and new. He gestures to it.

"This isn't my laptop."

"I got you a new one. Yours was glitchy as fuck," I say.

He blinks at me, opens his mouth and then closes it again before he says, "My old one was fine, where is it?"

"In the drawer. And it isn't fine. It takes ten minutes just to turn on, and the last time you used it you lost five hours of your work."

He doesn't have an argument for that. Instead he inspects the new one, like it might explode if he touches it. Although his old one is much more likely to do that.

"How much was it? It looks expensive."

I raise an eyebrow. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. Mal, you can't just keep spending money on me—"

I catch him with a surprise kiss and he makes a startled noise against my lips. I tug his hair slightly and he melts before I pull away enough to say,

"Shut up. I can spend my money on whatever I want. And you still have your old one if you really want to use that outdated lump," I say. "Anyway, it's not my money, it's my father's. He made that very clear."

Knowing what I know, most of it probably isn't even my father's money. I squash the thought quickly.

North considers it. I've got a point and he knows it.

"Ok. If it's that asshole's money, maybe I don't mind using it up."

"Which is why you should be using that card I gave you. How many times do I have to tell you?"

He looks like he's going to protest again, but then he stops, tilts his head, and a slow smile stretches across his face. "Ok."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What? What's that face for?"

"Nothing. You'll see." He picks up the new laptop and slides it into his bag.

My frown deepens. "I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one," he says, with a sly grin. "Trust me."

He heads downstairs before I can ask again. I don't like not knowing, but I know I can trust him. The cowboy costume swims back into my mind, like a ghost. Okay, no, scratch that, I can't trust him. But I guess I'm just going to have to wait and see, and endure whatever torture he surely has planned.

Still, I'm not happy about it, so I need to make sure our dynamic is in equilibrium.

North is waiting by the front door, and before we leave I push him up against the wall.

"Fine, you can keep your secret, but . . ." I pull the neckline of his top to one side. The metal-chain collar I bought him sits at the base of his throat, snug against his skin, marking him as mine. He kept it on all night. It looks good, and it feels right, but that doesn't mean I can't add my own marks too. The more the better. And his perfect skin looks too good marred with my marks, like my signature across his skin.

North makes a noise in his throat as I mouth the side of his neck, tracing my tongue along the length of his throat, tasting each rise and fall and the stubble he didn't bother to shave this morning, and then suck his flesh into my mouth and work it between my teeth. He holds perfectly still, breathing heavily, only his pulse jumping beneath my lips.

I pull off to check my work, and satisfied with the red blotchy hickey, I trace my tongue over to the other side of his neck and bite him there too.

This time he moans and moves his hips, rubbing his stiffening cock against me. I let him, until he's worked himself up enough. Then I pull off and step away from him, and he groans. I take in the marks, his rumpled clothes, his blown-out eyes, and the healthy bulge in his pants. He looks suitably fucked. In other words, he looks perfect.

"That's better," I say. "Right then, let's go."

His face is absolutely priceless as I open the door and step out into the insipid morning light.