:::HUNTER'S POV:::
Hunter shifts from one foot to the other, just beyond the wall. The whole room is visible—the fire, the tables…Cooper…
He shakes his head and mentally slaps himself about the head. Several times. Hard. Maybe that will calm him down. Or maybe he should quit thinking about this and…just…
Well, too late now. Hunter looks down slightly, berating his feet for moving on impulse, maintaining a smooth gait while curving around to approach Cooper’s chair from a slight angle.
He waits patiently for Abram to move his cards. He can’t help but smile—is everyone really that lazy today? That wasn’t a pair.
But Cooper shifts in his chair, glances up—his eyes are so beautiful, slightly confused with one brow vanishing beneath a strand of hair.
“Hey kid, d’you need me for som—”
Hunter doesn’t bother to let him finish the sentence; just leans forward to kiss him. It’s not the most comfortable position. Cooper, usually taller by a few inches, is seated more than a foot below him, but he shifts his weight to one hand and tips Cooper’s head forward with the other; it works out.
Hunter can tell Cooper registers the action when his breath hitches for a moment, and he can’t help but wonder how many times Cooper has had this happen before, if anyone else had found it to be quite this addictive. He’d thought once would be quite enough, just to satisfy curiosity—how stupid. Of course not. If his balance wouldn’t slip, he’d be perfectly happy to put his other hand into soft hair.
He feels Cooper shift again—a slight tug on his vest, almost falls forward into the other’s lap, but the sudden lack of sound reminds him how very exposed this place is. So he pushes away and leaves Cooper at the table.
He’s smart, isn’t he? Aren’t there hours ahead? There will be plenty of opportunities to trick Cooper into repeating the act.
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