Meek son
Davi woke up in the morning confused about where he was. For a moment he thought he was back in the apartment, sleeping next to Ivo.
But it only took him a second to settle himself in his surroundings. For one, Vice was a much clingier sleeper. He wrapped himself around Davi like a lamprey, clinging to his neck and throwing one leg over his hip as if he was trying to pin him down.
Davi ran a hand down the expanse of his bare back, settling on the swell of his ass. There were much worse ways to start the day.
Vice stirred a little against him, smacking his lips sleepily against the crook of Davi's neck, and pushing his ass into his palm. Davi petted him, just to hear him sigh in satisfaction.
"Wake up," he said, kissing the words against Vice's forehead.
He watched as Vice's smooth brow furrowed in annoyance. "Shut up," he grumbled, arching his spine in a yawn.