Christopher showered upstairs, humming and obviously happy under a warm spray, shampooing his brown hair and rolling a bar of sandalwood-scented soap over every muscle on his chiseled body. Although Christopher had asked Bay to join him, Bay didn’t. Bay hated to shower with anyone, even if the changeling looked desirable under the spray. Rather, Bay liked his space in the shower, having it all to himself, greedy of the small space, unwilling to share it with another man, even the hot and irresistible Christopher.
Downstairs, Bay wearing nothing more than a pair of white boxer-briefs that outlined his masculine essentials, Henry Ni appeared at the kitchen’s screen door. He stared through the gray, transparent screen, holding what looked to be and smelled strongly like a plate of muffins. B
