Max blinked in the bright sunshine that poured though the window of Michael’s apartment. The sheets stuck to his thighs, he had to peel them back. The body next to him moved and Michael sighed in his sleep. One big hand reached over, covered Max’s hip, pulled him closer.
Max inhaled, his nose against Michael’s chest. Here, he smelled home. Grey eyes opened, bloodshot as his, but still clear and focused. Kiss-swollen lips curved.
“Does this mean we’re gay?” Max whispered, everything about him felt sore and well used and good.
Michael shook his head.
“No. It means we’re human.”