He ran his thumb over Rory’s chapped lower lip. “It isn’t fair. But you do have people to catch you now. I will catch you.”

Rory swallowed. “You might have to,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “And I feel so guilty. You said I wasn’t a burden, but Ace, I feel like one.”

“Baby,” Arthur said again, and cupped Rory’s face. “Do I look like a man who feels burdened?”

Rory swallowed again, searching Arthur’s eyes with his beautiful, unfocused brown ones. Then, finally, he bit his lower lip and shook his head.

Arthur stroked his thumb along Rory’s jaw. “What do I look like?”

“Happy,” Rory whispered, his voice breaking on the word.

Arthur kissed him, sliding his hand to the back of Rory’s head and threading curls between his fingers. Rory’s hands found their way to his face as they kissed, and he went easily over onto his back when Arthur pushed him.

“I missed you.” Rory’s voice was hoarse as he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck. “I missed you so much, I scried your postcards every day.”

Rory’s kisses were turning needier, making Arthur’s head spin. “And I know you’re gonna leave again,” he said against Arthur’s mouth, “’cause you’re saving the world. But you gotta know how much I miss you—”

Come with me, Arthur opened his mouth to say. Come with me, no more goodbyes—

“—and I’ll find another job, I will,” said Rory, as if he was still trying to convince himself. “But Ace, you being here for me—you don’t know how much that means.”

He arched up to press their bodies together, and desire barreled through Arthur. He pressed Rory back down into the bed, their bodies aligning through the borrowed dressing gown that was suddenly far too thick a barrier.

Rory arched up again for more friction, and pleasure sparked over Arthur. “I am here,” he said, kissing Rory’s neck. “Maybe one day that won’t surprise you anymore.”

Rory shivered under him.

The dressing gown’s fasteners had come loose, falling off his shoulder. Arthur slid his hand into the half-open robe that looked so much better on Rory and found nothing but warm skin.

“Christ,” he whispered, his hand caressing Rory’s side, his hip, sliding across his stomach and feeling muscle flex and quiver. “You had nothing under this the entire time?”

“Borrowed your robe but also your shower. And your coffee, and your phone, and your bed.” Rory was breathing hard as his head tipped back. “I’m about to borrow your dick, hope that’s copacetic.”

Arthur half laughed in surprise. “Everything’s yours,” he said, a little more raw than he’d meant to. He covered the emotion with another kiss—and abruptly realized why it was so sweet.

He pulled back. “Did you by chance borrow some chocolates this morning?”