He ran lazy loops over the smooth skin, feeling content beyond words, snug under his living blanket. “You need a shower.” Eli’s fingers stilled at that unexpected remark. “Your definition of pillow talk leaves something to be desired,” Eli muttered, caught somewhere between amused and annoyed. “How is it pillow talk?” Calden countered. “We’re not in bed.” They weren’t, indeed. They lay on the sofa instead, chest to chest, with Calden on top of Eli. Calden’s cheek was pressed close to the healing tattoo on Eli’s chest, whose letters he had traced earlier with his fingers then his lips. Their feet stuck out of the blanket that was their rather flimsy attempt at staying warm. “I’m pretty sure in this scenario I’m the pillow,” Eli said, scratching the nape of Calden’s neck with a fingernail. “And if I need a shower, so do you, Mr. Tact.” Calden raised his head and cocked an eyebrow at Eli. “That was rather the point.” Eli blinked, then grinned, happily surprised.
