Hot Breakfast

Irde is (c) my partner Wirevix, used with permission. Oren is (C) me.

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Waking up after a clutch was always a little similar to waking up after a hangover or a long bout of sickness, in ways. Oren always arose in a sort of cloud of funk, exhausted, body sore, and head aching; at least it went away much more quickly, usually once some food got into him. Usually his husband Irde would be in bed besides him when he woke up, but not this time. Instead, he could smell the thick scent of food being prepared, and he blinked at the doorway a few times before sliding from bed onto shaky legs. One hand covered his nose and mouth and he shook his head as he stepped out into the hall. Tail dragging behind him, he went nude and disheveled towards the kitchen. The scent nearly overwhelmed him.

There was his husband Irde, adorned in his silk morning robe, humming tuneless to himself. The fine gossamer strands of his hair had been pulled back, pinned in a messy stack on the back of his scalp, revealing his dark, gaunt face. He hunched over the stove, a small bowl of cut up chunks of butter in one hand, a whisk in the other. So intent on his task, he didn't notice Oren come in the room; his shoulders tightened up, pulling back. Every so often, his tail would twitch, flickering over the tile.

Oren chuckled. “Mornin',” Sliding in at the table, Oren rubbed at his face with both hands, heaving a hard sigh. “Trying a new recipe? You always get so tense when you do.”

Irde didn't turn most of his body, but his long, flexible neck spun around until he faced his husband. “Ah, you're finally awake. Good morning, love.” His grin could illuminate the room on its own. “Yes, yes, I figured I may as well take the opportunity, given our fully stocked refrigerator, to try something new.”

“It doesn't smell so bad,” Oren rubbed both his hands over his face in attempt to make himself wake up further. “Mmn. Can you get me a coffee?”

“Yes, love. Just give me a moment.” Irde's neck twisted back and he glanced down, looking back to the stove. “Did you sleep well, Oren?”

Staring down at his hands, Oren spread them out slightly apart on the table. He had to squint to make them stop wavering slowly to and fro in his vision. Pondering heavily on the question, he wasn't really sure of the answer, his own body's condition fuzzy and mysterious to him. It wasn't bad, per se, but he'd be hard pressed to call it well.

“I'm still exhausted,” Oren slumped down and rest his head on the table. One hand pushed up his bangs and he felt his own forehead. “I don't know if the sleep was really 'good' or 'bad'. I just know I'm tired.”

“My poor treasure. Just you wait a moment.” Irde hummed once, that smooth, sombre tone leaving his throat enough to give any person shivers. Oren was no exception. Even in his current state, it was more than enough to force him to push his thighs together. He squirmed in place.

“Irde, don't do that.” said Oren.

Two chunks of butter were dropped into the pot as Irde began to whisk it quickly. “Do what, love?”

“You know what you did.” Oren could only laugh; it was so difficult at times to tell when Irde was playing, or when he was legitimately ignorant to his own life-long traits.

“If you say, sweetheart.” Irde wasn't, by most human standard, handsome, beautiful, or even easy to look at. Normally, his sheets of wispy yet impenetrable white hair hung down him, obscuring his face, his neck, only allowing the glowing hot dots of his bright yellow irises to shine through; the snowy colour stood a stark contrast against his black henna skin. He'd pulled it out of the way for now, though, his mass of hair drawn into a messy clump on the back of his head, ponytailed then pinned up to keep it out of the way as he cooked; the hair that streaked his long neck was still hanging free. Curled claws tipped his fingers, sharp and threatening, though Oren knew he, and they, were harmless.

Irde never wore shoes or socks, as he could never find anything to fit his large, splayed-out, toe walking feet. He never stood straight, his back naturally always in a semi-hunchback position. Unlike any human, his neck was long, bendable; if he were to stretch out and stand completely straight, it would make for a large quarter of his height alone. His long, curling, hair-covered tail arced up behind him as he cooked.

Irde's face was largely human. With overpronounced cheek bones, craggy yet gaunt features, deep-sunken eyes, a long, thin nose, and a sharp chin, he didn't fit most standards of beauty. His mouth was too wide with lips too thin, with tusklike teeth that protruded out slightly above the lower lip.

Oren would not be swayed by the thoughts of silly humans who couldn't recognize perfection when they saw it. He thought Irde was the very definition of handsome.

With a satisfying click, the oven's range was shut off. Talons clacking melodically on the floor, Irde strode over to Oren's side. A cup of coffee, made exactly how Oren liked it, was placed down. Irde didn't have to ask anymore. All their years together had engraved permanently into Irde's mind exactly how to brew what Oren liked: double-strength, but with light cream, and heavy sugar.

"Thank you," Oren took up the mug and felt the heat radiate through his hands. It trickled down through his body; his first sip of the perfect drink warmed all the way down his coldblooded form. He watched as Irde went back to the stove, quickly plating breakfast for the both of them; warm muffins split in half were placed on each plate; quickly, he placed a large yolk on each muffin, the whites carefully trimmed and placed after on top. Oren's face went deep red. They were topped with cheese, and then Irde picked up the pot he'd been whisking at, pouring a generous amount of fresh, creamy hollandaise onto each plate.

With a smile that couldn't even begin to portray the depths of Irde's joy, he placed down a plate before Oren, before settling in a seat across the table with his own plate, and a cup of black coffee. One hand reached up and pulled his hair down. It glittered in the light as it fluttered into place like sparkling snow in front of this face. Oren didn't notice, too distracted by other things.

Oren stared down at the plate in front of him, and the eggs stared back up. He took a deep breath, and rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “You made eggs.”

“Yes, of course I made eggs,” Irde laughed, taking a deep gulp of his coffee. “The fridge is jam-packed with them and will be for some time. I only used three and there's some twelve left.” He drummed his claws on the table, lips curling to a smarmy smirk. “Fifteen. Pushed out fifteen of those big, beautiful things. Gods, you're amazing.”

One hand went to Oren's face, and he rubbed it. “Yes, I certainly did. Gods, Irde. You're truly embarrassing. What even is this?”

“Eggs Benedict,” Irde picked up his knife and fork and chuckled to himself. “American food, but really quite good. Especially with your input.”

“I know what you made.” Oren sighed, and slapped one hand on the table in frustration, rolling his eyes, before taking another drink of his coffee.

“Then why did you ask?” Irde pushed the prods of the fork into the skin of humongous sunny-side up egg laid out on the plate with an agonizing slowness. It resisted. Then it popped noiselessly, the creamy yellow viscous yolk flooding out every which-way, mixing with the pale yellow hollandaise. Oren swallowed hard.

Irde turned his hand and used the side of the fork to scoop up an ample bite of the breakfast he'd prepared. His other hand drew back his sheets of hair from his face, and he slid the fork into his mouth, groaning as the morsels hit his tongue. He chewed slowly, savouring. Oren stared.

His mind was undulated with the reality of where the eggs had come from; he thought of how the evening before, Irde's lips were sealed against his neck, his prick deep in his ass as the oblong, spotted eggs came one after another from his cunt onto the soft towel nest they'd made. Oren shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His cunt twitched.

There was a groan as Irde swallowed. "It's exquisite, the eggs you make. The yolk's so rich. Something with the smooth melting tang of cheese and the creaminess of butter."

“You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm not. This is what I don't get.” Oren gave a shake of his head. "I understand your attachment to the creation of them, love, but I don't think I'll ever understand why you fuss on the eggs themselves."

Irde's eyebrows lifted. “Really. Because you are a bit enticed.” Two fingers scratched down Oren's piebald neck, Irde reaching across the table to meet him. “You say it like I can't see you swallow your nerves away or see your brow twitch or feel the warm pulsing going through your veins.” He dipped the fork into the thick puddle of yolk and licked it clean with one quick lash of the tongue. “Besides. It comes from your uterus. Out your warm little vagina. Why wouldn't I crave it?”

“I'm just thinking of yesterday,” Oren picked up a fork and cut off a small bite of his breakfast. He stared down his fork at it with a certain trepidation before slipping it into his mouth, having a bite. It was comforting. Warm food was always something Oren enjoyed; he didn't have to eat food, but it was so nice in the morning, especially when it was something to warm up his cold body. The taste was indeed exquisite. “You've gotten good at cooking,” Oren said, taking another bite. “Remember when we first met? You couldn't cook a thing, besides boiling eggs.”

Irde chuckled back. “Not even,” Fork scraping against his plate, he cut another large bite; he ate it with a soft groan, enjoying it on his tongue. “It took me some time to learn just when to stop the water to get soft as opposed to hard boiled. And it's a mistake that was devastating to make, seeing as the number of eggs was limited.” One hand brushed his hair aside and he lifted his brows, pursing his lips towards his mate. “I even ate a few raw just to taste it the first time. It was overwhelmingly rich, but worth it.”

Oren had more hunger than he realized. One swallow lead to another, and another. Rarely did he chew when he ate; instead he let it sit on his tongue a moment for the flavours to mingle, and then he'd swallow whole.

It was delicious. The slight lemon tang in the creamy hollandaise blended smooth with the savoury notes of the egg. The cheese melted on it added another layer of complexity, and the salt of the cured ham was distinct but not overbearing. It was easily one of the better things he'd ate, and he'd been a major part of its creation.

"That good?" Irde asked between bites of his own. He leaned over the table, eying Oren's long, slender neck; each swallow of food traveled down it visibly as a lump, pushed down by strong, rippling muscles. Irde's prick began to peek out. The strength exhibited by Oren's throat had always been beautiful to him, and it was near impossible for Irde to not envision it clamped around his prick when he watched it work.

Before long, Oren's whole plate was gone. "Yes," he said, leaning back in his seat, quite satisfied. He chased it with a swallow of hot coffee. "It was amazing."

Irde pushed his empty plate aside. He dabbed his mouth quickly with a napkin before leaning in towards Oren. Oren smiled, meeting him in the eyes. “Can I ask you a favour?”

“Of course,” Oren said, and he leaned in closer over the table. “What is it?”

Irde gave a purr, it tickling out of the back of his throat. His lips brushed over the cuff of Oren's pointed ear, and he sighed; Oren quivered in his seat, his mate's voice turning him to goo inside. “Now that I've given you a meal, would you return the favour?”

Oren knew that had been coming; not because Irde expected anything, no- he'd not done Oren a pleasantry expecting anything in return. Oren knew it was more simple than that. Eating what he'd produced had aroused Irde more than anyone else would ever understand.

Oren paused, pretending to consider, then laughed. “They did that much to you, huh?”

“It's peeking out already,” Irde said. “It's sliding out.”

“Gods. Well, we can't deny your half-exposed prick,” Oren took one arm and wiped aside the array of dishes, and on shaking, tired legs, he climbed up onto the table.

Irde stood, pushing back his chair; it squeaked over the floor. He leaned in, and his soft, suede-like hands touched against Oren's cool, painted outer thighs. Oren pressed his legs together and reclined on his side, “You wouldn't think we went at it so much yesterday with how hungry I am for you,” Irde licked at his lips, and had to swallow, his mouth watering.

Oren's double pricks were always out, not hidden inside his body like many other non-humans. However, they were much smaller in their unaroused state, only a few inches long each. They were plumping up quickly to their full state, though, each a tremendous length of around a foot; the secondary one was slightly longer, but thinner, and both were a flushed rose petal pink. They were both equipped with foreskins that were clearly peeled back; the heads were roundish in shape, but didn't resemble the mushroom head of human pricks. He twisted his cocks up over his hip, wriggling them towards Irde with a smirk. “Come on, take care of me. Get me ready first, okay?”

“Yes, dear,” Irde said, leaning in his long neck; he kissed against Oren's white belly, his hands petting over Oren's piebald sides. His mouth pressed against Oren's stomach, and he licked over Oren's navel-free belly; he leaned his head down further, and nipped on Oren's hipbone. “Mmnff, you're getting excited already, aren't you. I can taste it.”

Oren's hips wriggled. He moved one hand down, placing it on top of Irde's. “Why wouldn't I be? You're teasing.”

Irde guided Oren's hips with both hands, and Oren followed, rolling onto his back on the table. His legs dangled off the edge, as did his tail, and he gave a laugh that Irde smiled back at. “I feel silly dangling here.”

“Hush.” Irde barely parted his lips as he spoke, his voice dropping to that soul-stirring arousing baritone. “You look wonderful.” One of his hands pressed to Oren's belly; the other took up one of his two pricks, and he began to pull it in long, slow tugs as he looked over his mate's body.

Oren was thin, with a narrow, sucked in belly, with the bottom of his ribcage visible. He wasn't underweight; it was simply how his species was built. He was muscular on this thighs, tail, and arms, a swimmer's build, not bulging, but made of smooth, taut strength. There was an unusual colouring to his body; it was difficult to see, aside from its unusual shininess, but on touching, his soft, smooth scalelike skin texture was easily noticeable, and he was designed in skin colour like a snake rather than a human. His belly, chest, and genital slit were the same fish white as his jaw and the front of his neck; his eye area, his upper cheeks, his back, legs, arms, ass, and sides were piebald with a brown base, speckled with golden yellow, black, and deeper browns and greys. His feet were thick and wide-set with claws; his hands were large with double-length fingers.

Oren's mouth went beyond its lips, split up the side of his face nearly to the apples of his cheeks; wide, reptilian-pupil gold eyes shone under his short-clipped black hair.; the sides of his eyes were naturally winged, making his eyes look even wider. When he smiled, large, needle fangs could be seen. He smiled now as if he couldn't stop.

“You always say that. You say that when I'm all fat with eggs and you say that when I'm fucked sloppy and you say that when I'm hideous like I am now, just woke up.” Oren shook his head, clicking his tongue. Irde was so opinionated.

Irde's lips pressed against the tip of the cock in his hand. “Mmn, of course I do,” His voice was slightly muffled by his mate's prick in his mouth; he grumbled and licked down the side, his other hand taking up Oren's other prick. “I've thought you were gorgeous since the day we met.”

Oren grit his teeth and groaned. “Uhnnf. Fuck.” Thighs crushing together, Oren tried his best to stimulate his pussy without touching it; his hands were much too busy pressing against Irde's scalp, petting his hair as Irde slipped the head of his bigger prick in his mouth, starting to slurp on it. Irde's head bobbed, and he didn't take mind of any sound it made; he purred, rumbling low in his throat, the vibrations running up Oren's prick.

“Unhh, keep going, keep going,” Oren breathed out hard through his nose, but then gave a disappointed whine as Irde pulled away, letting his cock leave his mouth. “Fuck, Irde- come on, please.”

“Mmn, it didn't take you long to get you ready to go, did it?” Irde licked his lips before running his tongue down the oozing slit of Oren's prickhead. “It must be the residuals of your estrus. Would you rather we just skip to the main event?”

“Y-yeah, that must be it.” Oren swallowed, the nodded. “Uh, fuck. Yeah, let's just do it.”

“Spread your legs, please, and lift up your rear.” Irde gave a light tap to Oren's hip, and the other hand pressed up against his mate's genitals, squishing the wriggling double pricks against Oren's lean belly. “I need access.”

Oren swore, and did just as told. To say he aroused quickly was an understatement. His vulva was swollen, a deep red from the blood flow. His juices were flowing visibly, and the lips had parted, the entrance to his pussy beckoning for Irde to fill it, twitching, opening, closing with every breath. “F-fuck, go ahead,” He clutched his muscles, forcing a thick bead of his sweet, lilac-and-lust vaginal juice to form at the front of his entrance. It slid down and dropped off his ass with an audible plop onto the table. “Fill it up!”

“Oh, no, no,” Irde clucked his tongue as if to admonish. “Not there. You've stressed it so much lately. You must give it time to recover.” His hands moved, the black skinned fingers sinking into the piebald white of Oren's taut rear. Thumbs curling in, he pressed the very tips of his claws against Oren's deeply puckered hole, and barely pulling, he began to part it.

“Yeaaaah. Fuck, just... start gentle.” Oren hissed through his teeth, eying down at his mate. Irde looked back up at him, his eyes glowing with anticipation, his tusked mouth turned up to a wicked grin indicative of the things to come.

Irde licked his lips, the tip of his tongue passing over the thin but luscious surface. “I will, oh, I will.” He had to swallow, and he licked his lips again, staring at each beautiful hole, the soft, petal dusky rose of Oren's cunt, the tight, bouncy resistance of his pucker. Eyes shutting, Irde leaned in and inhaled, and the sweet and musky combination swirled up his head into a delicious, lustful haze. That was the smell that indicated not only a meal, one that would satisfy his sex-eater appetite, but a scent he now heavily associated with his Oren, his love, his everything. It stirred his loins. It made his heart beat faster. “I'm so used to your anatomy.” He leaned so close that his breath tickled against Oren's thighs; he took a moment to run his tongue up one lip of Oren's vulva, garnering a groan from him. “But we can't stress your poor vagina out. It must heal from your clutch.”

One of Irde's fingers swiped at the entrance to Oren's vagina, then slid down, down. Oren chuckled. “Ooh, fuck. That's good, that's fuckin' amazing.” Between his cheeks, his asshole was already wet with vaginal secretions, but Irde worked to intentionally smear it there further. Without much effort, Irde's index finger was starting to slide in, without even trying, as he teased about the soft, squishy hole. “Uhhnn, yeah. Keep doing that. Though,” Oren laughed, and one hand went to the top of Irde's head, where he pushed the other's long hair back, petting the silky strands. “I know you though, you know. You just want an excuse to fuck my ass.”

“Excuse?” Irde's eyes snapped up, and he stared at the other a moment before he had to laugh. “I hardly need an excuse, my love. You say it as if I don't make you go cross-eyed and senseless every time.”

Oren rolled his eyes, not arguing it, partially because it was true, and partially because most argument with Irde were pointless at worst, fruitless at best. It was something best saved for subjects that mattered, or at least subjects that his mate didn't have a supernatural sense for. Sex was one thing Irde could never be lied to about. Deep in Oren's ass- a hole that was only for pleasure in his species, with no other function- was a bulb that when stroked gave him intense, electric sensations. He loved it in his vagina, but the exquisite feelings his ass gave him weren't anything he could compare to it. Oren loved both, and needed both to be happy.

“I'd estimate that an equal portion of times we mate, we do it anally,” Irde's finger circled the pucker once or twice before he pushed, starting to finally slide it forward; he purred at the ease of which it went in, that sound almost inaudible from Oren's high gasp. “Sometimes I envy you.”

“Envy me?” Oren smirked, hissing through his teeth as that finger went inside. “Why? Because you don't have an asshole?”

A second finger joined the first, and Irde stretched the hole out gingerly by drawing his two fingers apart. He relished in the harsh swear that shot from Oren's mouth. “Yes. You derive such wonderful pleasure from it that I can't help but want to see it for myself. I can only get so much secondhand.”

The first finger pulled out, then the second. Once again, disappointment rattled from Oren's chest as they did. “Irde. Please, stop messing around. Just do it already.”

“Ah, you're not just content to go to it, you're begging for the main course today.” Irde's long, dark prick stood up; it was an awe-inspiring thing, well over a foot, longer than Oren's bigger prick. Slits in the sides oozed out a slick fluid; glowing, colourful orbs were implanted in the lower half's sides, contrasting against the black shaft, and they flushed colours with the beating of Irde's heart, fluid sloshing inside them. The spade-shaped tip, crowned in hard, sharp thorns, wriggled back and forth teasingly; he snapped the spines down, knowing how to control them, and penetrate a partner without snagging them against them.

Oren lifted his tail, and he propped himself up on his arms to get a look at the other. His tail tip made a ginger stroking line over Irde's cock. The end swirled around it, squeezing it, and he used it to tug his mate's length; he smiled, and laughed, and blew a kiss Irde's way. “Yeah, come on. You know you want to bury this whole thing up in my ass.”

Irde didn't hesitate in the slightest, shivering at those words. Years of experience with Oren had taught him not only the limits of his partner, but what he loved. A little teasing beforehand, stretching, licking, wayward digits and enthusiastic pulls were always appreciated, yes, but not always necessary. Plus, his natural lubrication, oozing in slippery lines down the sides of his deep black cock, was more than enough.

The only care Irde took was in reassuring his barbs were down as he edged the spaded head of his slithering tendril phallus against the pucker of Oren's ass. The soft skin was already moist; Oren's vaginal juices were trailing, leaving a puddle beneath his body on the slick wood of the table. Irde wouldn't wait any longer.

His mighty cock went forward, and Irde let out a roar. He fell forward, snapping down his neck, and his mouth caught at Oren's chin; the other had lifted his head to belt out a cry of his own.

Oren's ass yielded without any difficulty. He resisted not; his muscles tightened, but to milk rather the reject the much welcome intrusion.

Sheets of liquid pattered down to the tile floor from Oren's overfilled hole. Pungent sex fluids and lily-sweetness tinged the air in a fragrant, contrasting cacophony of them.

Irde's truly gigantic cock was fully sheathed in Oren's body. Oren's eyes rolled back, his mouth opened wide, splitting at the edges, and he screamed. "Fuck. Fuck. Irde, I'm so full. It's warming up my belly."

Irde chuckled, and he twisted his prehensile length, swirling it in a corkscrew inside. One hand slid down Oren's soft belly before skipping past his double pricks. Much to Oren's displeasure, he gave a low whine to object, but he couldn't anymore when Irde's index and middle fingers pressed into his tragically empty cunt.

"Fffuck. Fuck." Oren wrapped his pricks around each other, grinding them in a double helix in attempt to garner some stimulation. Both his holes twitched in unison.

Sucking his neck, licking his jaw, Irde made his way up to Oren's mouth, which he then crushed his lips to in a kiss. "Mmn, Oren. You taste..." Irde paused to give a languid pull of his cock, creeping it out over the sensitive, precious bud in Oren's ass. He closed his eyes, relishing in Oren's steady moan. "Delicious. Simply delicious. I could drink you up like this and be happy for days."

Then he shot it forward once more with opposite intensity, enough to make fluids drip from Oren's body. Oren writhed on the table. His toes curled in and his nails scratched over the lacy tablecloth. Swearing first under his breath, Oren laughed. "Don't lie! You can't go a damn day without me."

With a tut, Irde swirled his fingers. Lewd, wet, sloppy noises accompanied as he stirred Oren up inside. Irde sighed, enchanted by the velvet skin of Oren's twat on his fingers and by the cloying scent it brought. "Now, don't be cruel and doubt, Oren. I could go a few days. But why, when I can indulge every day?"

Oren's cry broke into a cracking squeak. "Ah, aah! I- uhhn, fuck, I thought we weren't playing there today!" He couldn't control his hips, and Irde laughed. Twisting his fingers upward, Irde hooked them against that hot, textured spot in Oren's bucking cunt, walking his fingertips back and forth over it. Oren's voice went loud; with no children home, he saw no need to try to contain it.

"Ah, my two fingers won't harm it," Irde used his free hand to grip Oren's hip, pulling him forward, leaving them near flush to each other. "They aren't quite as invasive as my other parts."

Oren wouldn't argue with it. One hand parted the hair on Irde's face back, and then he moved in, his mouth gluing to the other's. Quick lashes of his tongue encouraged Irde to open his mouth; the moment he did, Oren was consuming it, licking and sucking and relishing. His life depended on it.

Irde's prick moved slowly at first. He thrust it on its own, not moving his body with it; there was no need to. Just shallow, slippery, squelching thrusts; each movement made a loud wet sound ring out, a gush of hot liquid leaving Oren's ass, overflowing lubrication pouring from the slits in Irde's prick. The copious stream from Oren's cunt, with its tart floral scent, didn't make matters any better. A puddle formed beneath them, drowning their skin in lewd juices.

One of Oren's hands went down, wrapping about the larger of his two pricks. Irde followed suit as his hand engulfed the smaller. Both tugged at different paces, with different tempo, and Oren couldn't stand it. Irde's mouth was against Oren's neck, the thin lips pressing there, him kissing and sucking and giving tiny licks of flesh. The muscles of Oren's ass clutched tight around Irde's cock, milking the hot, colourful bulbs in the sides. His pussy squeezed Irde's fingers. Both his pricks were pulsing, twitching, the climax rapidly approaching, shooting bolts of electricity up through them. Every twitch, every stroke of Irde's cock over that sensitive bulb in his ass made him twist and twitch, sparks flying through every bit of his being. Back arching, feet kicking, Oren let out a tremendous shout. He came.

The seed shot out of Oren's duel pricks, staining sticky, long ropes up his fish pale belly. He initially screamed, but then his voice broke to a low whine, then panting, nothing but panting, and Irde cooed in delight, drinking down each bit of Oren's orgasm. Irde's prick pulled out, as did his fingers; as his dick stroked over that spot, Oren shivered. There was a wet slurp as Irde's cock left Oren's body. Oren's well-used asshole twitched, refusing to close all the way. Over the edge of the table, Oren's tail hung limp.

Irde crooked his neck down and kissed once against Oren's mouth. Oren couldn't kiss back, eyes screwed shut as he tried to catch his breath. But he wrapped his arms around Irde, hands petting down the soft, suede-like skin on his lover's back, and he rest against the table, mind in a daze.

“Thank you,” Irde said, a low whisper against his exhausted mate's ear. “For the magnificent breakfast.”