Lucas lay sprawled against the pillows, hair damp from the bath, the faint glow of city lights slipping through the curtains and painting pale streaks across his skin. His breathing had steadied, though every so often a soft hum escaped him, half contentment, half exhaustion.
Across the room, Trevor fastened the last button of his crisp white shirt, the fabric stretched over broad shoulders, tucked neatly into dark trousers. His cufflinks gleamed as he adjusted them with the same precision he carried into every boardroom and battlefield. The gold of his watch caught the lamplight as he pulled it snug against his wrist.
Lucas's green eyes followed him lazily, a faint curve tugging at his lips. "You dress like you're about to conquer a kingdom, not step out for a meeting."
Trevor smirked, checking the fall of his tie in the mirror before turning back. "Perhaps I am."
