“No hanky panky,” he warns. “Where are we going?”

“Hanky panky? Is this suddenly the nineteen twenties?”

“Misha,” he warns me.

I groan, throwing my hand over my eyes. “I might have bought us tickets to see a play at the Globe.”

“The Globe?” He sounds stunned.

I remove my hand and wince. “Is it not right? I just thought what would Charlie like, and then searched around for whatever arty shit was on this weekend. I saw their programme and thought you’d enjoy it.”

“Oh my God,” he says loudly. “This is the best date idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Hardly,” I scoff. “It’s just a play.” I wink at him. “And dinner if you promise to put out.”

He punches me gently on the shoulder, his eyes glittering. “It’s the best,” he insists fiercely. “You used what you knew about me to create something you knew I’d love. And don’t think I’m unaware that it’s not your thing.”

“My thing is you,” I say softly. “I’ve been coming up with ideas for years. We just never called them dates.”

“Maybe we should have,” he murmurs. “We wasted a lot of time.”

“And maybe at another time we’d have crashed and burned. Everything happens in its own time, Charlie.”

He bends and kisses me, scrambling my thoughts and stealing my breath. When he pulls back, he smiles at me. It’s extremely fucking potent at this distance. “Thank you,” he says and sits up. “So, what are we seeing?” he asks excitedly.

I shake my head at him. “Some Shakespeare shit. Tickets are in the bedside drawer. You can see for yourself.”

“Yes,” he says and knee walks across the bed, leaning forwards to scrabble through the drawer. I watch as the sheet slips away, leaving him nude, and reach down and fist my cock which is hardening nicely. We’ve got time for a shag, I think lazily before I notice that his whole body has stiffened. I don’t have any time for any other thoughts before he whirls around, and I see what he’s holding.

“Oh shit,” I say.

“Care to tell me why there’s a pair of lace knickers in here that look very much like a pair I lost after the weekend in Brighton?”

“Oh… yes. Well… shit!”

He arches one dark eyebrow. “Well, that’s a very erudite explanation, Misha.”

I scramble to sit and hold my hands out defensively. “I can explain.”

“Yes, I believe that’s what I’m waiting for.”

I draw in a deep breath. Why the fuck didn’t I remember those knickers were in there? “Harry threw them at me in Brighton in the hotel corridor. Then I punched him in the face and we shouted at each other a lot. Another resident complained about the noise, and so Harry and I talked and then he left me with them.”