He shouldn't. He shouldn't have yesterday. Slayde did, though, fingers wrapping around Drake's cock. Drake's low moan filled the room, the man still asleep.
Slayde hummed, let his fingers explore, up and down. Drake's eyes snapped open and a hand landed on his wrist, tight, hard. Then Drake took a breath, relaxing, hand sliding away from his.
"Sorry. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Okay. Wow.
"Sorry." Drake's voice was all sleep-husky. It was sexy. "Occupational hazard."
"I bet. The kids are still asleep." He wanted to play, one more time.
"You don't have to stop," Drake told him, pressing closer.
"Oh, good." He moved a little faster, learning every inch of that sweet cock in the daylight.
Drake's eyes fell halfway closed, a low moan coming out of him. "Never…"
"Shh." He licked Drake's jaw.
Moaning, Drake bent his face so their mouths met, the kiss slow and lazy and sleepy. Oh, fuck. He loved this, being able to be lazy, easy in his skin.
Drake pressed even closer, almost rolling over him, one sweet kiss after another shared between them. His body was burning, his hips starting to rock, push against Drake's strength. One of Drake's hands slid slowly down his body, a tease on its way to his cock. His prick jerked, bobbed and…
"Uncle Slayde! Uncle Slayde, good morning!" His doorknob rattled and he groaned. Damn it.
"Good morning, Christian. Don't wake up your sisters."
Drake had frozen, gone just utterly still.
"Okay. Can we have oats for breakfast?"
"We can." Go on, kiddo, so I can get some pants on. He didn't have to worry about still being hard. That little voice was like ice water. He got up and searched for his robe.
"Yay! Gonna tell Uncle Drake!"
"Fuck," muttered Drake.
"Shh." He winked and peered out the door, his robe wrapped around him. "Let Uncle Drake sleep."
Christian pouted, shoulders slumping.
"Go down and start the TV and then you can help me make the cinnamon toast."
"Okay." Christian took off at a run.
Behind him, Drake groaned.
"Okay, that's dealt with." He grabbed pants, tugging them on. "You're welcome to stay in here, if you want."
"I don't think I'll press my luck." Drake slipped out from under the covers and God, the man was sheer stud.
"Okay." He couldn't help looking.
Drew bent and picked up his clothes, offering him a fine view of that ass. He reached out, fingers just barely touching. Drake jumped, then looked back at him, eyes wide.
"Sorry. It was right there." And perfect.
"Just surprised me," muttered Drake.
"I get that." He nodded, grinned. "I'll go start breakfast."
"I'll come down in a bit." Drake had his underwear and T-shirt on, his pants in hand as he slipped out the door and across the hall.
Slayde headed down, whistling under his breath. Oats, toast, then Jenny would be ready to come down.
He was nearly done when Drake came down, Maggie's hand in his. "Look who I found in the hall."
"Good morning! I'm making oats."
Maggie led Drake to the kitchen table and tugged on his arm. When he sat, she climbed up into his lap and held on to his shirt with one hand, putting the thumb of the other one into her mouth.
"You've made a friend, Uncle Drake."
"I know." Drake's smiled at him, looking like he'd been just given a million dollars.
"Coffee?"
"Sure. You want coffee, too, Maggie?" Drake asked. She just looked at him. He laughed. "I'm taking that as a no."
"Milk."
Jenny began to cry, the sound panicked, wild. She was still waking up hard from the medicine.
"Coming, baby!" Slayde sprinted up the stairs.
She held her arms out to him, hands opening and closing, her cry turning angry now that she saw him.
"I know, right? You slept late." He picked her up and took her to the changing table. "Are you feeling better?"
Her cries subsided and she took a few hiccupping breaths as he changed her out of her Pull-Ups.
"There. There. Sweet girl." The swelling was better, the blisters healing. He got her dressed and picked her up and she leaned against him, peaceful now. "Sweet baby girl. Uncle Slayde loves you so much. Let's have breakfast."
"Bekfast!"
Drake had set the table and was helping Christian pour the orange juice. The oats were cooking and he put the cinnamon toast in the oven and offered Jenny a sippy cup. He thought he could feel Drake's eyes on him, but whenever he looked, Drake was looking anywhere but at him.
Soon he was in the rhythm of morning. Coffee. Oatmeal. Toast. Juice. Answering emails on his tablet. Drake played with Maggie and at some point took Jenny from him, bouncing a girl on either knee and all was fairly peaceful as they ate.
Then the kids went to play, Slayde started doing dishes, and Drake…stared at him.
"Are your hands okay to be doing that?" Drake finally asked, breaking the silence.
He looked down at them, the blisters ugly and awful. "I hope so."
Drake made this growling noise and got up, pushed him away from the sink. "I'll do the dishes."
"You don't have to. It's okay."
"You're hurt -- why shouldn't I?"
It wasn't like Slayde was trying to shirk out of working or anything and Drake was being insistent. "Thank you." Slayde nodded. "You're a good guy, no matter what they say about you." No wonder Mindy was so close to the man despite not seeing a lot of him.
Drake only snorted. "I don't know. Probably some of what they say is true." Drake gave him a grin, letting him know the man was teasing. "Especially if it's Mindy doing the saying."
"She says you two were fast friends, when you were little."
"We were." Drake grinned, looking suddenly lost in memory.
'That's cool. My family and me, we're all busy living our lives, you know? We email a lot, phone, but things are always crazy."
"Mindy and I keep in touch more or less but we kind of became… I don't know, less close, when she got married."
"Isn't that common? I mean, you have a life, so does she."
"Yeah, I suppose. I hadn't realized just how far we'd drifted, though,
