The bedroom was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp and the soft flicker of the hearth across the room. Lucas was sprawled half‑under the blanket, hair still perfectly in place from dinner but now falling a little softer over his forehead. A book rested in his hands, thumb tucked between the pages as his eyes skimmed the lines slowly, as if savoring the luxury of reading without interruption.
Steam drifted in from the half‑open bathroom door, the sound of running water having stilled moments ago. Trevor emerged barefoot, a towel draped low on his hips, another slung over his shoulders. Drops of water traced the lines of his collarbones and slid down his arms, catching the light in ways that would have been distracting if Lucas hadn't been so content to finally, finally sit still.
