Charles shivered under Erik’s touch, his body almost literally aching when the other man pulled away. I wonder if you know what you do to me every time you open your mouth or touch me. Hell, even when you look at me. You will be the death of me, I swear by it. He projected the thoughts towards Erik’s mind and smiled, watching his lover walk away.
When Erik suggested pancakes, Charles laughed, but dug around in the cupboard until he found what he was looking for. He threw the pancake mix at Erik.
“You’re making them, then. I’m pretty certain you don’t want me to cook—unless, of course, you’d prefer lumps of floury-tasting, globs of….I don’t even know what over real pancakes?” Charles grinned.
