Micah had seen Damon in a variety of expensive, fitted suits, and on a handful of other occasions, casual sweats and t-shirts, and he always looked hot. But this… never had the man ever looked so delectable. (Except, perhaps last night.)

Damon held up the tray like the answer to Micah’s question was obvious – which, it was. His frown didn’t dissipate. “Where did you think I was?” he asked after a moment.

That Damon had abandoned him in a fit of regret, or embarrassment, or maybe even disgust. That he was avoiding him somewhere in the house. (Micah had even entertained the notion that the man was so sickened by what they’d done, that Damon had fled the country, leaving Micah there, content on letting him find his own way back to the States.)

Not that Micah was about to admit to any of that.

Ultimately, he only shrugged before crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

Damon carefully set the tray of food down before turning back to Micah. He fingered a bit of Micah’s cowlicked hair, his other hand running up and down a tense bicep. “How is it that you’re even prettier in the morning?”

And just like that, all of Micah’s self-doubt fled. His shoulders loosened, and he leaned into Damon’s touch. “You’re the one in a frilly apron,” he pointed out, mumbling the words into Damon’s shoulder.

Not that Micah was complaining.

“You asked me so nicely yesterday. What kind of monster would I be to deny such a simple request? Especially when you were so good for me last night.”

His words made Micah feel warm all over, and he hummed, feeling more confident. “Well, I suppose it’s only proper that I find a way to thank you then.”

Damon pressed a kiss into his hair. “Only if you want.”

Oh, Micah wanted.

And to prove his point, he slowly lowered himself onto his knees, untying the apron and bunching it up out of the way. Damon’s cock was already at half-mast, and bracing one hand on the man’s thigh, Micah wrapped the other around the bottom of the shaft.

Damon sucked in a breath above him, stiffening when Micah leaned forward, giving the slit experimental, little kitten licks before stretching his lips around the ridged head of Damon’s cock and suckling on it like a baby at its mom’s teat.

Damon groaned. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you can.”

Micah nearly rolled his eyes.

He planned on taking much more than just the tip, and he proved it by suddenly devouring Damon whole – until his cock hit the back of his throat, until he was practically gagging on it – before backing off again.

“Jesus, Micah,” the man above him all but snarled. Fingers dug into his scalp, entangling in his hair. “Fuck, is this okay?”