Jack clapped one hand over his mouth and the other over his cock so he didn’t wake Simon by groaning or humping him. Jesus.
In the thin light of the autumn moon, Jack could just make out the man curled up beside him. Simon slept as deeply as a child, covers curled around his shoulders, knees drawn up, face nearly buried in the pillow.
Jack chanced a kiss to his shoulder and Simon murmured in his sleep.
He slid from the bed with as little disturbance as he could manage and felt for his underwear and his crutches.
When he eased open the bedroom door, Puddles’ head slid to the floor from where it had been resting on the door and he looked up at Jack, aggrieved. Louis was curled up on top of Puddles, uncaring about the venue.
“Sorry, buddy.”
Given how much Simon loved the dogs, he probably wouldn’t mind Puddles curling up at the foot of the bed, but everything was so new, and Simon caught him off guard with his reactions sometimes.
Jack hoped there would be a time when he would know Simon’s reactions as well as his own. When he could read the other man just by a raise of his eyebrow or a curl of his lip. If he could just avoid scaring Simon off...
Jack went to the bathroom, checked the fire, and scratched the ears he could reach as he went along. Bernard’s huge head lifted off his paws and he yawned, then settled back down, Rat using his paw as a pillow. A cat’s eyes glittered at him in the darkness just before the white fluff ball that was Mayonnaise leapt, grabbing ahold of his crutch with her paws and curling her body around it to scrabble at it with her back legs.
“I think you killed it, bud,” he told her, and extricated his crutch from her furry clutches.
The animals were used to him not sleeping at night, but usually he turned the light on, or the television, so—other than Mayonnaise’s sneak attack—they were following his lead in being quiet.
Somehow, Jack found himself in his studio, in front of his drawing table, where he and Simon had stood the week before. Out the window, the tops of the trees swayed in the breeze and Jack imagined the coming winter. He loved the snow. Loved the clean smell of the cold air and the sound of a fire crackling merrily. He loved drawing as the sun rose and he watched the frozen world come to life. He loved drawing as the sun set and the world outside became the dark velvet distance his cozy cabin glowed against, a submarine moving silently through black waters.
Had loved.
He had loved drawing.
A wave of despair closed over him.
What if it never comes back?
He swore softly, fingers digging into the wood of the table.
There was a sound behind him and he waited for a furry body to press against his leg. When one didn’t come, he turned to find Simon in the doorway. He’d pulled on Jack’s discarded sweatshirt but his long legs were bare.
“Shit, sorry, did I wake you?”
Simon shook his head. Jack couldn’t see his face in the dark, just his silhouette, but his shoulders were rigid, like they were when he was feeling anxious.
“C’mere,” Jack said, transferring both crutches to one arm and holding out a hand.
Simon moved toward him like a ghost, moonlight catching the bridge of his nose and his messy hair.
His hand was shaking slightly, but when Jack pulled him in for a kiss, he twined his arms around Jack’s neck. Lifting his arms bared his ass, and Jack’s hand went to it like it was magnetized.
“I woke up and you were gone,” Simon said softly against Jack’s mouth, pressing his bottom into Jack’s hand.
“Sorry, darlin’.”
He couldn’t believe he’d missed what it looked like to see Simon wake up and realize he was in Jack’s bed.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Guess not. But you should go back to sleep if you can.”
Simon’s eyes were sleepy, his head drooping to Jack’s chest. A deep sense of peace settled there along with it.
They stayed that way for a minute, maybe two. Then Simon said, “Do you have a sketchbook?”
Jack plucked it from the window ledge. Dust plumed into the air. Simon took it from him and grabbed a few pens from the cup on the table. He turned and looked over his shoulder, then gestured with his chin for Jack to follow.
When they got to the bedroom, the door was open. Puddles was lying directly in the middle of the bed on his side, all four legs straight out in front of him, and Louis was curled up between his legs. Simon smiled.
“Puddles,” Jack commanded, and Puddles yawned, then rearranged himself at the foot of the bed. Louis blinked one eye sleepily, rolled over, and very slowly made his way to curl up on top of Puddles.