Delicious
Havoc lounged lazily on his bed, a book on his lap and nominally smoking a cigarette. Roy was somewhere out in the living room, either picking through Havoc's formidable collection of plays and history books or poking through other things.
"Jean?" Roy said quietly from the door.
"I'm here," he said, quirking a grin.
"No, I wanted to see if you were awake."
"I haven't fallen asleep on you yet, have I?"
"True enough." Roy slid onto the bed, pushing the heavy book away. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine. Why do you ask? I haven't done anything –"
"That's just it. You're so cold."
Havoc's grin turned full, generous, and mischevious. "So warm me up. Think of it as equivalent trade for all the times I pulled you out of the dumps."
Roy pinched out the cigarette. "Oh, I'm being selfish now," he said, smirking. "You taste too good for me to just let you go..."
Their kiss was warm, wet, and breathless.