Stanwick sat at the kitchen table, feet tucked beneath his chair and the morning paper spread out in front of him. He reached absently for the yellow mug near the side of the counter, filled with something that passed as an inconceivably sweet cup of coffee, and took a small sip as he read the news. The headlines were only of passing interest and the articles themselves weren't much better. It was all fairly typical for a Thursday.
In the same way, he was wearing his characteristic suit and tucked-in tie, complete with a clip to hold it in place. Coworkers might laugh at him behind his back for his predictability, but their comments couldn't outweigh the comforting sense of familiarity that the clothes offered. His hair was neatly brushed back, its sandy disarray tamed only through a liberal application of hair gel. He knew that his damnable bangs would flop down in front of his face after a few hours like they always did, but for now they were submissive to his styling whims.
He glanced over at the timepiece on the wall and frowned at the thought of going to work. Another day at the bank was just...another day at the bank. The same types of customers would be dealt with and the same types of forms would be filled out, heedless of the brilliant morning sunlight spilling through the kitchen window and onto the floor a few feet away. He'd much rather spend the day tucked off in some secluded corner of the house, curled up by a window with a good book and a few chocolates.
Even more than that, though, he wished he could go upstairs, shed his business garb, and crawl back into bed. With that thought came the promise of warm, inviting arms just waiting for him to change his mind and sleep the rest of the morning away. His cheeks reddened faintly at the thought of what else was waiting for him and he resolutely turned his attention back to the paper...
...only to be interrupted a moment later by a soft thump and a muffled curse coming from the hallway. He blinked in surprise and looked up in time to see Kris stagger into the kitchen, rubbing the top of his head with an expression of tired annoyance. "Damn ceiling above the step caught me again," he explained, vague accent more noticeable when he was half asleep.
It might have been the continuous stream of muttering that kept Stanwick's eyes on him as he crossed the kitchen to make himself something to drink. More likely, though, it was the fact that he'd thrown on boxers before coming down from their room...and nothing else. A few minutes later, cup of unsweetened borovan in hand, the drowsy man finally realized he was being watched.
"See something you like, no?" he teased with a tired smirk, amused blue eyes meeting embarrassed gray. He was propped up against the wall, tanned skin and dark hair in stark contrast with the flat white paint. Stanwick couldn't bring himself to look away. Kris in clothing was appealing enough. Kris almost naked was damned near irresistible, a fact he knew quite well.
Reasonably conscious after knocking back a few mouthfuls of borovan, the assassin moved away from the wall and towards the table in the center of the small kitchen. Muzzy as he'd been, he was now in a position to appreciate the attention he was getting. His partner's blush only deepened as he neared, moving closer until their faces were only inches apart. "Good morning, love," he murmured, one hand coming up to cup the back of his lover's neck as he leaned in for a slow, languid kiss.
Stanwick sighed into the caress and allowed his own hands to move until they were resting against Kris's dark-furred chest. He ran them up along the well-defined muscles as the kiss continued, delighting in the feel and texture of warmed skin and thick hair.
Letting the kiss linger as long as it would, the dark-haired man eventually pulled back and smiled contentedly. "You taste like sugar," he purred before dipping his head for another thorough taste. It was nice not having to reach up to access his lover's mouth for once. Such were the disadvantages of being short.
"When do I not?" Stanwick asked with a breathless little laugh, hands sliding up to grip Kris's shoulders.