“Mmm.” His eyes crossed at the heat. “I was having a work. You feel good.”
“What is that?” Kyle hugged him close with one arm and looked down at his scribbling. “Are you writing?”
“I am. I sell them pretty good, as a rule.” He liked writing songs just fine.
“May I?” Kyle picked up his notebook and looked it over, then kind of bopped his head to a silent beat and hummed a few lines. “I like it. Kind of raunchy too.”
“Yeah. It’ll play on the radio, not too bad, but enough kids will want to sing it.” The guys could help him redneck it up some.
“You’re that sure of yourself, huh? I like it.” Kyle kissed him lightly behind the ear. “Confidence is sexy as hell.”
“Well, I mean, it’s a good hook.” And a singable melody that didn’t require a bunch of yodeling.
“It is a good hook. I can’t wait to hear you play it.”
“You want I should?” He let his fingers move, singing the first verse and the melody, letting the bluesy smoky feel loose.
Kyle swayed beside him—his lover never could sit still when there was music playing. “Oh. That’s got a wicked groove. I love listening to you sing.”
Oh, that was sweet to hear. It wasn’t his best thing, but he could carry a tune in a bucket. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome.” Kyle leaned in and kissed his cheek and then stood up. “You keep on, I’ll listen and make some pasta for dinner. We can have a soak after.” Kyle turned on a couple of lights to work by but left the kitchen mostly dim.
Colt kept on keeping on for a bit, but it seemed more fun to help Kyle and touch and caress.
“You know this is a knife I’m holding, right? Don’t distract me. I might chop off a finger.” Kyle tossed a bunch of fresh herbs into a pot with some simmering tomatoes, then put the knife down and turned to face him with a smile. “You want to put a big pot on to boil?”
“Surely can.” He whistled as he wrestled the pan into the sink and filled her up, and then he hauled it to the stove and got heat under it.
“You okay with chicken sausage? It’s pretty good. It’s supposed to be Italian-style, but it’s spicy as hell.” Kyle gave the sauce a stir and then pulled a deli-wrapped package out of the fridge.
“I am. I eat anything. I like food, but spicy’s my favorite.” He grabbed Kyle’s butt and squeezed.
“Yeah? I got something spicy for you right here, my rockin’ Cajun lover.” Kyle pressed back and rocked his hips like they didn’t belong to the rest of his body.
“Uhn.” Tell him he shouldn’t drop to his knees and just lick.
Kyle laughed and slipped away from him, dancing across the kitchen. “You’re so easy, baby.”
“Well, what good is playing hard to get?”
“None. None at all.” Kyle was still giggling as he tossed the sausages into a frying pan on the stove. “I just haven’t ever known anyone like you, Colt. You’re just… wonderful. That’s what you are. Joy and wonder.” Kyle tangled their fingers and smiled at him. “I know, I’m melodramatic, right? I don’t care.”
“Look at them dance in the pan. I love that sound.” Colt leaned and took a quick, hard kiss that Kyle returned, nipping at his lip.
“Water’s boiling,” Kyle sang to him and gave him a mischievous grin.
“You making noodles? You want something to drink?”
“Yes, penne. You want wine? Something else? I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.”
“Is there something that you think will go?” He liked himself a glass of wine; he loved how it felt on his tongue.
“I always like red wine with a red sauce, myself. There’s a pinot noir in the cabinet.” Kyle pulled a plastic package from the fridge, cut it open, and carefully dumped the pasta in the boiling water.
“Pee-no.” He drawled it out, playing with the word, making himself laugh.
“There’s a bottle opener on top of the cabinet, goof. Glasses in the hutch.”