Flushing in spite of himself, Damen tipped his head in Laurent's direction. "Never," he muttered, the softest of smiles against Laurent's cheek, his lips, the impish corner of his mouth. He was captivated by just how demonstrative Laurent could be, an affectionate and very private version of that witty, flirtatious young man he'd fallen for.

Did he want--? Yes he wanted, so much, he didn't even know where to begin. But taking care of Laurent came first. Damen opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by a knock on their bedroom door. "I have miraculous timing," he said with an arch of a brow at Laurent. "That's breakfast."

He called permission to enter, and two servants came in, eyes humbly downcast. One bore a tray loaded with pastries, breads, little bowls of honey and cream, fruits, and nuts, the other a full service of tea.

Damen nodded in approval. "We will breakfast in bed this morning - you may set it there - " He indicated the table beside Laurent for the tea tray, and the broad space of bed in front of them for the food.