Morning.
Busy, but not overly so. Footsteps and soft voices and carriages that rolled over cobblestone streets. London sounds that washed over the city in gentle susurrations.
Dalton woke on the rug in front of the fireplace in the library of Tadbury House surrounded by the scattered light of the rising sun in naught by his undergarments and tucked under a tailcoat that was most decidedly not his. He was not, at the moment, all that concerned where his own had ended up. It’d been lost sometime last night in the hurried shedding of clothes. Dalton blushed remembering it. Even harder when he realized that Edward had fallen asleep with him shirtless.
His body still tingled from their fun. The touching. The kissing. The teasing. The way Edward made him sparkle. Made him feel sublime. Desire
