Page 1 of Love Is…

1

Luke hates Valentine’s Day. Always has. And yet, here he is, just after four in the morning, and he’s thinking about it. Worrying, actually. Because this year, he has a Valentine, and a no-gifts policy just isn’t going to be an option. Hal wouldn’t care – “It’s just stuff, Luke. I don’t care aboutstuff” – but Luke would hate himself a little if he didn’t get his boyfriend something to commemorate this: their first Valentine’s Day as a couple.

He’s still not used to saying that. Even thinking it in his head. A couple. He and Hal area couple.

And one of the two of them likes mornings better than the other.

Luke stares up at the dark bedroom ceiling and listens to the muffled sounds of Hal moving around the kitchen. The familiar low chug of the Keurig; clink of a spoon going into the dishwasher; light impact of bare feet on the cool floorboards. He’s rarely awake this early, but when he is, he strains to hear those sounds. The sounds of not living alone anymore.

When he hears Hal coming back toward the bedroom, he rolls over and presses his face into the pillow. If Hal finds him alert, he’ll have questions, and Luke has no poker face when it comes to his boyfriend.

The door opens, and with it comes a sliver of light, a faint glow from the bathroom or kitchen. Hal crosses the room almost silently – almost. The bed dips as he climbs onto the mattress; the air smells like coffee, and like Hal. That special early morning blend of sandalwood and Speed Stick and laundry detergent, undercut with the faint note of skin Luke has known and loved for years.

Hal moves close, mattress dipping further as he leans over Luke’s prone form and sets the coffee mug on the nightstand, like always. Then he lowers himself down, stretched out and molded against Luke’s back.

“Morning,” he says, quietly, against the back of Luke’s neck.

“Mmm,” Luke hums into the pillow, chest warm and light. “Come back to bed.”

Hal, because he speaks fluent face-in-pillow, sighs and says, “I wish I could.” The way his pelvis snugs up to Luke’s ass confirms this statement.

Luke rolls his head to the side so he can talk. Through the dark, he can just make out Hal’s hulking shape behind him. The arm around his waist is heavy and warm. “Youcould. You could get Matt a treadmill and teach that perky bastard to run indoors.”

Hal snorts a laugh into his hair, his breath hot against Luke’s scalp. “He likes the fresh air.”

“I like sleeping in with my boyfriend.”

“I do too.” Hal kisses his neck, the ticklish spot just beneath his hairline. Luke can feel his smile against his skin. “Saturday, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Don’t be a brat.” Hal nips at him.

“I’vealwaysbeen a brat. You knew what you were getting into.”

“Very true.” His weight lifts as he braces up on his hands. “Hey,” he says, voice lower, throaty. “C’mere.”

That voice does things to Luke. Turns his knees to Jell-O and stirs hot coals in his belly. He’s never wanted to look easy in his life, but he can’t help it now; he’s so easy for Hal, and always will be.

He rolls over beneath the covers, which is an awkward, graceless process, so he’s looking up at Hal through the shadows. Without his glasses, Hal’s face is indistinct; an impressionist version of his familiar, beloved countenance. But Luke can see the glimmer of his eyes, and he can tell he’s smiling. If he wasn’t lying down already, it would knock him back on his ass, being the recipient of Hal’s radiant, loving expression.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he says, stupidly.

“Don’t care.”

His kiss is slow, and deliberate, soft lips and a wet flick of tongue. His mouth tastes like toothpaste and coffee, and Luke lifts into him without conscious thought, shoving his fingers through his hair and whimpering quietly.

“Hmm,” Hal hums when he pulls back. He kisses Luke’s cheek, his ear, his neck. “Good morning,” he repeats, voice a turned-on purr.

Luke locks his legs around Hal’s hips, cups the back of his head, holds him close. He sighs, and tries, awkwardly, to shove his neck harder against Hal’s mouth. “Don’t stop.”

Hal nibbles at the fluttering pulse in his throat, a careful scrape of teeth down to his collarbone. When he grips the neck of Luke’s tank top and pulls it to the side, giving him better access, Luke shuts his eyes and surges toward the gentle assault. Shit. Hal is sogoodat being good to him – riling him up, worshiping his body in a way that no one ever has. He likes things slow and thorough, and he never lets Luke shrink away from what he wants, what he feels.

Luke’s never had so much sex in his life, and it’samazing.

Hal’s hips start to grind against Luke’s. He likes this, oh he likes it, Luke can feel how much.

“Damn it,” he groans against Luke’s chest, hot breath creating a damp patch on his shirt. “I can’t leave likethis.” His hips give a sharp jerk to drive home the point.

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