“One hundred percent fine!” He waited just long enough; Kris started to say, “At least eat your chocolate cayenne pepper monstrosity—” at which point Justin threw in innocently, “Yes, Dad,” and Kris’s words became unintelligible dismayed noises and finally laughter.
Justin, laughing along—loving how their bodies fit together, lazy and gilded in sunshine and half-aroused but not quite urgent yet—kissed him again, and wriggled just to feel him some more. “Sorry. Too easy when you’re being all protective.”
“As if I wouldn’t be,” Kris muttered, but he was grinning; success, then. “I did miss you. I know you’re working, but we could’ve used you. You’re better at making everyone feel like they’re being listened to. I could’ve used you. Just, y’know, to lean on.”
“You can,” Justin said, meetin
