Dean entered Arion's office without knocking, because he knew for a fact that his husband could sense him from the other side of the palace, and he intended to exploit that advantage for the rest of their lives.
Boreas was asleep in front of the fireplace, snoring lightly and jerking whenever he dreamed of something running away from him.
Probably Dean.
Who knew what occupied the mind of that dog?
"You could at least message me when you decide to visit," Arion said, leaning back in his black leather chair while turning between his fingers the pen he had been using to sign documents only moments ago. "You are not respecting my schedule."
Dean's pale brow rose as a smile formed on his lips, reminding Arion that he loved kissing him.
Mostly because kissing remained the most effective method of silencing Dean whenever he forgot to keep his mouth under control.
