Morning found him curled against Timaios and not wanting to move, to open his eyes, or to think.
He nuzzled closer to his Owner, breathing in the sandy scent of him. “Like a Riesling,” he muttered, and then froze, blushing.
There was a hand in his hair and the chest under him was shaking lightly in laughter. “Sandy, mmm? That’s a nice way to put that. Thank you, Ctirad.”
“Sir?” He didn’t move, didn’t peek up at his Owner, but the urge was there. Continue reading