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He slept over again.
Not on purpose, of course. It just happened. But it sure seems like it’s been just happening more and more often lately. Another new habit, he figures. No big deal. Besides, his own room may be more comfortable—the mattress and the colors and the smells and the quiet all far more to his liking—but waking up here does come with one incredible perk.
Mason turns his shirt right-side-out and tugs it on, eyes drawn to the seam Theo had torn open last night in her haste to get the thing off him.
“Sorry about that,” she croaks out, her voice gone all raspy from a few hours' disuse—though overuse is just as likely a culprit, if his memories of the previous evening can be trusted.
He takes in the sight of her stretched out unceremoniously on her bed with the early morning sun behind her. Even dulled by the curtains it makes her hair glow a sort of rose gold, and she hasn't been awake long enough to smooth it back or to arrange herself temptingly around the sheets—a fact that pleases Mason. She's fucking perfect like this.
Hell, stick her in a museum right up with all those old paintings, and he might let Nate drag him along once in a while. Might even do the dragging.
“No, you're not,” he says.
In lieu of a rebuttal she flashes him a cheeky grin and stretches. Sits up on her elbows then all the way up to watch him dress, rubbing her eyes and gathering the duvet up to her chest.
“You know, you could uh… leave a change of clothes here. I guess.” She frowns deeply and looks away as her words trail off. “If you want to.”
“Hard to resist such an enthusiastic offer.”
“Well it's so cliche.” She smacks her hands onto the bed in frustration. “It sounds like a whole big thing, and that's not what I— I'm not— I mean if you’re going to— Ah, shit.”
Mason raises an eyebrow at her, waiting while she collects her apparently complicated thoughts on the subject. The subject she brought up in the first place.
At last, Theo huffs. “It's practical.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
A lightness breaks through the frown still carved into her brow as she shrugs and says, “Just trying to save you the walk of shame. Because I’m nice like that.”
Mason smirks. “Oh sweetheart, I am so far from ashamed of what we do here. Thanks for looking out for my reputation, though.”
“Hey, it is impossible to get stains out of those things.” She starts off teasing, but gives a heavy sigh. “Trust me.”
The way her expression falters has Mason wondering if she speaks from experience, but before he can ask about it, a thought occurs to him—along with an entirely different question. It’s one he's never needed answered before, but now it makes his heart thud uncomfortably inside his chest.
“Theo,” he begins, voice calm but less detached than he’d like. “Are you ashamed?”
“What?” Theo’s eyes go wide in genuine surprise and she scrambles to her feet to close the gap between them, catching a toe in the sheets and nearly tripping in the process. Her hands slide onto his ribs and settle on his waist. “Of y— of this? No! God, M, no. Why would you ask that?”
If she wants an answer, he's screwed because he doesn’t have a good one. Anyone else, any other encounter, and he wouldn’t give a damn how they felt about it. Never has before. They want to be embarrassed that’s their shit, not his.
She is one of them now, though. Part of the team. A friend, and he’s never done this with a friend before. And like Nate said, she'll be sticking around. Only makes sense to want her not to regret it, not to make it awkward later on, not to cause tension with the others.
Yeah. Explains a lot, really.
Mason nods, satisfied, as his hands meet her warm bare skin. “Just had to make sure.”
Theo sighs and melts into the touch. “I should never have made the stupid offer. Forget I asked.”
“It's a little domestic for us, anyway.” Mason lets his gaze drift gently down the curves of her naked body. The scent of human food is creeping in from some other apartment, but it’s not so bad when she’s this near, smelling like… well, like her. Her pulse begins to pound in his ears, and by the time he makes it back up to her face, it bears an expression so heated it makes his breath catch.
“Way too domestic,” she whispers, swaying almost imperceptibly.
“Wouldn't want the neighbors to get the wrong impression.”
“Exactly.”
He skims the back of his fingers along her collarbone and up the side of her neck, then clenches his fist into her hair and soaks up the way she shivers with pleasure. “On the other hand,” he says, pulling gently to tilt her head back, “a change of clothes could be practical for other reasons.”
Theo hums in question and he dips his head low to whisper in her ear.
“Imagine how creative we could be if we didn't have to worry about your clothes or mine.”
When his lips meet her pulse point she arches into him with a shuddery breath. “Consider me convinced.”
Mason smiles into her skin. “It was your idea.”
“Right, right.” She waves one hand dismissively in the air before it joins the other in attempting to undo his morning’s work. “Course it was.”
Then she retreats to give him a stern look and a strict finger. “But to reiterate, this is purely a functional arrangement.”
She’s at least partly joking but he doesn’t have the patience for it right now. He wants her to focus on his shirt so he doesn't have to take over. Then he can take her back to bed and find out how hoarse her voice can get.
Maybe make her lose it entirely.
“Agreed,” and he cups her breast, brushing the pad of his thumb over the peaked nipple. The moan she bites her lip to muffle is a good start.
“I mean it.” With Mason’s encouragement, Theo manages to tug his shirt off again—more carefully than the last time—before her hands drag down his chest and abdomen. “Don't you go catching feelings for me.” Her nose wrinkles at the word even as her fingers work loose the top button of his jeans. “Dirty little things.”
“No kidding. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Not since I turned seven.” She giggles alone at her own glum joke, then looks up at him through her lashes and draws her lower lip between her teeth. “I'll tell you what I would kiss with it though…”
A growl escapes him at the suggestion. He’s been half hard since she first laid her hands on him and the warmth currently spreading up toward his stomach is only intensifying. “Actions speak louder than words, sweetheart.”
“Good point.”
In one smooth movement that has his attention fixed, Theo wraps her arms around his neck and tilts her head up to his—but her lips stop just shy of his own. Mason relishes the anticipation. Lets her stretch it out as long as she wants, for once welcoming the wash of sensations: the warmth she radiates, the achingly slow circles she traces on his spine, the caress of her thumb in the rough stubble on his jaw, the smell of sweat and arousal and the perfume she wore yesterday, the dissonant flutters of their heartbeats, and the spark in her eyes as the sun catches on the blue.
Finally, finally she kisses him, but it’s only the lightest press of her lips before the tip of her nose drags along his. She leaves another there, just as gentle as the first. One more at the top of his cheek, brushing against his eyelashes, and it’s not at all what he expected. Not what he thought he wanted, but—
Better somehow.
Mason swallows hard. Wants to speak, to say something that might shove off the weight of all that tenderness, but before he has the chance, she captures his lips again. Maybe she knows what he’s thinking or maybe she’s thinking the same thing. Doesn’t matter; the urgency in it has his mind back on the right track.
The slightest pressure at the back of her thighs and she clings tight to let him lift her, wraps her legs around his waist, and peppers soft hungry kisses wherever she can reach as he walks them back to bed.