*Wyl*

Wyl watched Robbie walk out of the bedroom, transfixed by the sight of his perfect ass. Mmm...it had been perfect, too. He felt himself stir thinking about it, but also realized that he did really need the bathroom.

He walked in, appreciating the warm feel of the room, the fact that although it was clean and masculine, it wasn't blank and sterile—quite the far cry from what Wyl was used to in the morning. The stalls in the men's bathrooms at Danica's were like the rest of the living areas: undecorated hard grey walls, rough floors, and harsh bright lights that threw shadows into stark relief.

Wyl finished with his necessities quickly, washed up, and started to head out, then paused when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He hadn't seen a real mirror since Danica had last had him up to her place.

Critically, he took a moment to examine his reflection. Sad. He was skinny, pale, and as shaggy as the feral dogs of his home world. Nothing like Robbie, who had an amazing body, fit, very strong and yet still supple. Wyl ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair and sighed. Someday soon he'd cave and let Leesie cut it. Her fingers had been itching lately.

Something smelled like cinnamon. Wyl walked into the living room and saw his pants and shirt hanging on the back of the couch. They were clean. He tugged them on out of consideration for Robbie's sensibilities and looked into the kitchen. "All right, maestro, what did you make?"

"French toast." Robbie passed him a plate of sweet-smelling bread covered in butter and syrup.

"Ooh, fancy." Wyl picked up a fork. "Is this made with eggs?"

Robbie raised an eyebrow. "You've never had French toast before?"

"No...does that make me an Outlander?" Wyl asked, referring to the provincialism and rustic attitudes prevalent among colonies distant from the inner planets.

"Maybe. What's your home planet?"

Wyl cut off a bite of the toast and crammed it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and chewed quickly, swallowing fast. "That's so good."

"Glad you like it." Robbie smiled and touched the side of his forehead in a brief salute. "Where are you from?"

Damn. "Parthea."

"The main industry there is manufacturing, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Ships, mostly."

"No wonder you're so good with them."

"Yeah, I grew up with it." You have no idea... Wyl didn't want to keep going down this road. "What about you, where are you from?"

"Well, originally from Earth."

Wyl snorted. "Yeah, aren't we all." He took another bite, then realized that Robbie was serious. "Umph?" He forced down the sweet mouthful. "Wow, really? As in recently? I thought the place was too toxic to support life."

"My grandparents were among the last people to leave. I was born there, but my folks didn't stay long."

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"Were your grandparents history freaks?" Wyl demanded.

"Kind of. Mostly I think they were just afraid of change." Robbie pensively cut a piece of the toast, then cut that piece in half. "And they were poor. They basically had to be deported. Anyway, I grew up on Mars."

"Man, back at the home system. It must have taken you forever to get out this far."

"It did. I slept for a long time." He touched his temple lightly. "I woke up with grey hairs."

Oh shit. Wyl decided it was time to change the subject again. "Is Robbie short for Robert? That's a good Old Earth name."

"No." Was he starting to blush? He was so fucking cute...

"Not Robert? Not Roberto?" Wyl chewed another mouthful, holding his chin in one hand. "What, then? Just Robbie? Long for Rob?" He grinned suddenly. "Or is it Robin, like the bird?" There was definitely a blush now. "Robin? Your name is Robin? Isn't there a story about a famous Robin?"

"You're probably thinking of Robin Hood," Robbie said dryly. "I've read it. Several versions of it."

"There are others, too.” Wyl tapped his fork on the edge of his plate as he tried to remember. “A kid with a bear—"

"Yeah, Christopher Robin. There's also a comic book character, and innumerable other literary examples down the years."

His cheeks were bright now, and he wasn't meeting Wyl's eyes. Wyl decided he had teased him enough. It was time to placate and have some fun. He put his nearly empty plate down on the counter and sidled around so that he stood just behind and to the right of his lover, then wrapped strong arms around his waist.

"But there's only one Robin I'm interested in," he murmured, flicking his tongue out to brush Robbie's right earlobe. He kissed the back of Robbie's neck, his shoulder and scapula, down his side and under his arm until he had wriggled his way right next to Robbie, and finally tasted his mouth. Sweet, like breakfast, but warm and responsive and delicious, and before he knew it he was desperate again. "Let's go back to bed."

Robbie smiled wickedly. "But I didn't get to finish my breakfast."

"You can have me for breakfast, let's go."

"Mmm." The heat in Robbie's look made Wyl tremble a little. "I think I will have you for breakfast. We can take a little more time now."

Did that mean what Wyl thought it meant? "You want me?"

Robbie grabbed him around the waist and maneuvered him towards the bedroom, punctuating every step with a kiss. "I thought that was obvious by now."

"No, I mean..."

"I know what you mean." Their legs hit the edge of the bed, and Robbie slid them up until their bodies were fully supported. "And yes, that's what it means." He nuzzled Wyl's temple and kissed his forehead, then leaned back. "Unless you don't want to."

"It isn't that." All of a sudden Wyl was confused. What had changed in the few hours of sleep since they last had sex? Why was he feeling so shy?

Maybe because since then you found out he's a fantastic lover and an amazing person and you don't want to be a disappointment to him when it's your turn to catch, you fucking pussy. Wyl's internal monologue was no help at all to his ego.

Robbie was watching his face closely. "Stay here a minute, I'll be right back." He pushed off Wyl's body and walked into the bathroom. God, now what? Wyl was anxious, nervous and despite it all still extremely aroused. He rubbed a hand across his face, staring straight at the ceiling. Four fucking years...

Robbie wasn't gone long. He threw something onto the bed at Wyl's feet, then made himself into a human blanket again, covering Wyl's body entirely with his own. Their cocks rubbed against each other, and Wyl gasped at the sensation, pulling his legs out from underneath and twining his feet behind Robbie's knees, holding him in place. Robbie leaned in and kissed his open mouth, rubbing his tongue across Wyl's, slowly, smoothly, despite Wyl's attempts to make things frantic again.

Wyl finally relaxed, and soon he was able to slow down a little as well. When Robbie pulled back, Wyl felt like he'd blissed out on a drug. There was no urgency, just sweet sensation, the pleasure of someone holding him, caressing him, and being gentle. He hadn't felt gentle in a long time.

"I want you," Robbie whispered, his eyes drinking in Wyl's face. "I want you so ready for me that when I enter you there isn't the slightest hint of pain. I want you so ready for me that you beg me to take you. I want you to remember me as the best, and not some fast, random fuck."

His words soothed and aroused Wyl, but at the same time he felt a deep internal sharpness, like something had been nicked with a scalpel and was slowly bleeding out. It was a feeling he wanted to forget for now. He arched his hips a little, and Robbie grinned.