Spreading peanut butter on a piece of toast with a knife, Jon Andalon let out a soft sigh. The sunlight that streamed in through the windows behind him warmed his body and illuminated the white cupboards and blue walls of his kitchen.
Jon was a tall man, slim and muscular and dressed in black pants and a gray t-shirt. Dark of skin and eye, he wore his black hair buzzed to little more than stubble. “Honey! You"re going to be late.”
In his mind"s eye, the silhouette of his boyfriend emerged from the door that led to the bedroom, pulling a t-shirt over his head. He turned around just in time to see Ren poke his head through the neck-hole.
Jon smiled, bowing his head to the other man. “Always running late,” he teased, striding forward and offering a plate. “I"m telling you, one of these day
