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"James?" Jeremy called from the other room.
"Almost done," James replied as he put some finishing touches on dinner.
"James?"
"I'll be right there."
"JAMES?!?"
Hearing a short pumping sound, James ran. But He was too late.
A black streak shot past him in retreat. Jeremy sat on the couch, frowning.
"There's cat sick on my trousers. More specifically, my gentleman's area," he pouted.
"Oh, cock. I'm sorry about that, Jezza." He leaned over to kiss Jeremy on the forehead.
"Get me out of these trousers."
"I was planning on that, anyway."
"Is dinner ready yet?"
"Well, I thought you'd like dessert first."
Jeremy's eyes lit up. "You don't like to start with dessert."
"Fusker's coughed up food on your trousers. It's the least I could do." James waggled his eyebrows. "We have ice cream...and me."
"You and ice cream, my kind of dessert. Come here." Without getting up, Jeremy grabbed for James.
"Wait a moment, I have to get the ice cream first," James chuckled as Jeremy sucked on his neck while quickly working his flies open.
"I like to devour dessert as soon as possible."
"You should savor it."
"That'll be for after dinner," Jeremy replied with a smirk.