He pulled Dash in the direction of the Ocean Voyager exhibit. They spent at least fifteen minutes watching the whale sharks, sawfish, rays, and other animals in the enormous tank. Or at least Dash did. As intriguing as the exhibit was, Thorne spent a lot of that time watching Dash.

“You ready?” Dash asked, finally turning away from the tank.

“Yes. Shall we head home?”

Dash nodded, and they made their way through the gift store to the exit.

When they came out into the adjacent park, Dash pointed at the small cafe located between the aquarium and the World of Coke. “Let’s get ice cream.” He was bouncing like a five-year-old.

“After that breakfast I don’t think I should ever eat again.”

“If that was breakfast, then we’ll call this lunch.”

“Says your twenty-year-old metabolism.”

Dash turned to face him, but kept moving backward toward the cafe. “We’ve been walking for hours, plus we’ll need energy tonight.”

“Fine. I may as well give in now, or you’ll pester me until I do.” Thorne couldn’t wait to use up Dash’s energy in bed, but this had been, by far, the best day Thorne could remember having had in years. “I’m ordering this time.”

Dash grinned. “Go for it.”

The cafe sold soft-serve ice cream in vanilla, chocolate, or a twist of both. “I’d like a cone of the combo with sprinkles and a cone of chocolate.”

The little boy in Dash bounced again when Thorne handed him his ice cream.

“Did I guess right?” Thorne asked.

“Perfect.” Dash radiated joy. He must really like ice cream and maybe also the fact that Thorne knew him so well. If only every day could be like this one. But it couldn’t. Thorne was living inside a fantasy, secluded from the real world, despite being in a crowded public place. Monday would come, and his fantasy would dissolve.

Dash licked the curled top off his ice cream and gave an exaggerated moan of pleasure.

Thorne’s cock liked that a little too much. “Let’s find a shady place so we can eat these before they melt.”

They found a nearby bench and sank down onto it. Without warning Dash leaned over and licked Thorne’s ice cream.

“Hey! You’ve got your own.”

“Stolen ice cream tastes better. Don’t you know that?”

Thorne raised his brows. “My sister used to say the same thing.”

“She’s wise.” Dash held out his cone. “Here, taste mine.”

Thorne frowned. “It has sprinkles on it.”

“Yeah. You asked for them.”

“For you.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “Just taste it.”

Thorne did; the sugar punch of the sprinkles wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d expected.

“See, sweet things aren’t the enemy,” Dash said.

“No, they’re not.” Somehow Thorne didn’t think they were talking about ice cream.

***