I awaken to her mouth on my dick. The moistness and the cool air where she's thrown the covers off makes my morning wood beyond hard. Harder than concrete. Harder than porcelain. Harder than trying to come up with more metaphors.

"Damn, love. You know how to wake a bloke up," I mumble in my gravely voice, the sleep still hanging on.

"Mmmmmmm," she replies, her mouth still filled with my favorite body part.

"How come you get to have all the fun?" is my question, and she pops off me with an audible sound which makes my dick very happy, especially as she continues pumping me with her fisted hand while she looks up at me curiously.

I make a circling motion with my hand to tell her to spin around. She raises her eyebrows.

"69? Really, Harry?" she asks.

If she thinks I'm going to blush, she's wrong. We've been adventurous, but this is one we've never tried. Shrugging, I add her pillow behind my head so I'm propped up enough to really do the job right.

Releasing me temporarily, she turns her body so that she straddles me, her legs on either side of my head. Impatiently, I wait for her to lower herself onto my mouth, eager to taste her. Licking my lips, I wrap my arms around her thighs, drawing her to me.

She's taken me back into her mouth, but at my first lick along her slit, she moans, halting her movements. It's only on about the fourth or fifth lick that she remembers what she was doing and resumes deep throating me. Fuck. Her mouth feels so good, and I have to remind myself not to buck up into her. I use my tongue inside her while my teeth nibble just a bit at her clit, and she cries out at the feel. Pushing my thighs further apart, she rests her hands on them as she bobs up and down on my cock. I add two fingers into her entrance, pumping in time with the movements of her mouth. Minnie is now rocking into me, pushing my fingers deeper. And she's decided to focus on just my tip. Her tongue swirls around it, teasing the slit, and I'm going to start thrusting soon.

"Minnie?" I casually inquire, as if we were trying to decide on granola or fruit for our yogurt, as my fingers continue to drive into her, my thumb flicking her clit from side to side.

"Harry?" she responds, relaxed, as if we were determining which show to watch on telly.

"I'm going to come if you keep that up," I warn her.

"Me first," she responds, and I hear the challenge in her voice.

So now the race is on. I redouble my efforts, using my tongue, teeth, and fingers to try to bring her to orgasm before she gets me there. Rapidly moving between thrusting into her and nudging her clit with my tongue, I am rewarded when she squirms, crying out, and I feel her legs shaking as the waves overtake her. Sticking my tongue inside her, I help her ride it out, feeling a bit of pride that I've won this contest.

But she's not finished. As soon as her climax passes, she redoubles her efforts, pulling my length into her throat and swallowing in such a way that the suction pulls on my cock, and I can't help it: I spill my seed into her mouth. This wasn't what I'd intended, but there's no pulling out now as she continues to suck on me until every last drop has been drained. Sitting up and turning to face me, she makes a great show of swallowing and wiping her fingers around her mouth (kind of like a certain someone did way back in early One Direction days).

Laughing, I gather her close to me, wrapping her tightly, trapping her arms against her sides as I kiss her deeply.

I live for you. I long for you.

It's not long before we fall back asleep.

=============

Meg looks back and forth between her son and her former boss. She wants to slam the door shut on X, but his head is in the way.

"Xavier? What are you --?" Deciding it doesn't matter, she steps over his prostrate body. "Never mind," she finishes, "Could you please move? We're on our way out." Her voice sounds cold, but inside she's shaking like a dog just out of the bath as she's filled with dread and excitement at his presence.

Her internal dialogue is a ping pong ball bouncing around in an enclosed environment. What is he doing here? What does he want? Why is he sitting on the ground? How did he find her apartment? The questions tumble over each other, and she can't breathe.

Titus has no clue what's happening, but he's picking up on some negative vibes. Already whiny about being awakened, the boy gets vocal about his unhappiness.

"Mama - pan'akes." He's grasping her hair, and she winces as he tugs on it.

Xavier has recovered from his shock at having the door opened on him whilst sleeping, and he jumps up, closing the door for her, offering with a gesture to take the key and lock it, but Meg refuses, brushing his hand away and locking the door herself before sliding the key into her pocket. Turning away from X, she starts towards the elevator.

"Meg-pie," he starts, and she whips around, fire in her eyes.

"DO NOT," she warns, and he clamps his mouth shut.

Following her into the elevator, Xavier has no idea what to say. "I, uh...." he stutters, "I screwed up, Meg-p....Meg. I know I screwed up. Please let me explain."

At the tenth floor, Mrs. Hoskins gets on, and the older woman tickles Titus, trying to get a smile from him. He is lounging over Meg's shoulder, his arm hanging down, and Mrs. Hoskins says to him, "Who's this handsome young man?"

"I Ti-us!" he giggles, and then he points at Xavier, "ZAAAVER MY FRIEND!" he yells, and Meg winces at his loud voice in her ear. How the hell did her kid know Xavier's name? And why did he keep calling him a friend? He only calls people friends when he meets them. And he's never met Xavier.

At the lobby, Meg exits quickly, carrying Titus who wants to babble at Xavier. "Eat pan'akes, Zaver." He is grasping at Xavier over Meg's shoulder, but she keeps walking away. Whatever he has to say, she doesn't want to hear it. Not now. She's not prepared.

With her steady income, she'd been able to buy a used car, and she puts Titus in his car seat in the back, buckling him in tightly. She feels Xavier at her back, but she's determined to ignore him. Nothing he has to say will make up for how he hurt her in New York.

"Please, Meg," Xavier begs as she closes Titus' door and prepares to climb into the driver's seat. "Just let me explain. Please."

It's the second please that gives her pause. His voice breaks a little on the word, and Meg aches for the child he once was. She rests her forehead on the driver's door frame. Her thoughts are whirling. Escape is the only thing on her mind right now.

With a deep breath, she looks up at him, pain evident on her face. "You don't need to explain, Xavier. I kept Titus' existence from you and that was wrong. I apologize. If it's any consolation, my new boss knows all about my son."

The look of incredulity on Xavier's face is quickly replaced by one of anger. "New boss? No. Not okay, Meg. You didn't even give me two weeks' notice." His insides are being ripped apart; his heart stomped upon. How could she just go out and find a new job like that? Without talking to him?

She quells him with a look. "I assumed I was fired with the way you yelled at me in New York. Besides, I can get yelled at by any boss anywhere. Why should I stay and be yelled at by you?" Putting her hand to her forehead, she grimaces, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. "Look, Xavier. I can't talk about this right now. I have my son -" and she nods at the backseat, "and I've promised him breakfast. Plus," she looks at her watch, "I believe you have an interview in a couple of hours."

With those final words, she climbs into the driver's seat, preparing to close the door until Xavier grabs it. "Can we talk later, Meg? Please?" The desperation in his eyes is the only reason she agrees, pulling the door shut as he steps back.

Feeling slightly guilty for telling him a half-truth (she has three interviews for jobs, but no actual new role), Meg decides she's going to add bacon as a side to her double chocolate-chip pancakes. And no one can stop her.

=============

When I awaken again, I am reminded that it's Sunday morning. Minnie's not in bed, and I hear the voices of Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts in Notting Hill on the television. Which means there are Belgian waffles out there. I'm reminded once more that I've got no clothes in her flat as I stand from the bed, naked. Guess I'll have to put my Gucci suit back on, which will be weird for skulking out of here.

My eyes alight on the chair near the bed. The one where she'd placed my clothes so neatly the first time I'd slept over. There is a pair of trousers there along with a t-shirt and pants. All in my size. Damn. This woman is amazing. How does she do it?

After a quick shower, I dress in the new clothes which have been laundered and had the price tags removed, but it's quality stuff. Not Gucci, but not ASDA either. These are clothes I would likely buy for myself. When had she bought this? I shake the thoughts from my head because it's more than I want to think about right now.

As I finish dressing, my stomach growls. Perfect timing. Stepping out to the living room, I'm run over by a bundle of three-legged fur as Daisy jumps on me, leaving her long hairs on my new clothes. Laughing, I rub her, scratching behind her ears. She seems to like that.

"Daisy! Down!" Minnie scolds, and I laugh.

"It's fine, Minnie. I quite like this greeting."

She raises an eyebrow, "If you think I'm going to say hello to you like that from now on, you better think again."

"Thanks for the clothes," I make eye contact with her, and she blushes.

"You're welcome," is her shy response, but she offers no further information about where the clothes came from or why she has them.

My eyes settle on the waffles, and Minnie giggles, "Hungry, H?"

She's dressed today, which seems to be unusual, so I mention it, "What's up? I thought Sundays were lazy lie-around-and-watch-romcom days?"

Minnie responds, and I can feel her reluctance at the plans. "I've got to go to an interview with Xavier in a couple of hours. Just enough time to watch this movie and eat our waffles."

The fact that she says "our waffles" doesn't escape me, and there's this warm, glowy feeling in my stomach.

I live for you. I long for you.

Last Sunday when we'd done this, I'd sat on the other end of the sofa, but this time I sit right next to her, our thighs touching as I grab a plate and pile it with waffles and strawberries and syrup. I've joined her at the point in the movie where poor Hugh Grant is pretending to be a reporter from Horse and Hound so that he can visit with Julia Roberts.

The domesticity from last night hasn't gone away, and when we finish eating, Daisy jumps on the sofa between us, begging for some loving. Between the two of us, there are always at least two hands on Daisy, petting her, giving her rubs, and making her feel like she belongs somewhere at last.

========

For her part, Daisy is ecstatic. She has nearly forgotten that place with the cold, sterile cage where she rarely got pats. Where she ate boring food and smelled other animals all the time. That place that made her quake with fear. Where all she hoped for was one more day with her human. To get to wake up every day in this place where there is sunshine and happiness and daily rubs behind her ears --- well, this must be heaven! If her human says it's time for bed, Daisy climbs into her bed and stays there. When she's told to get down, she jumps down immediately. Cause this is the nicest place she's ever lived. Not that she can remember very far back. But still.....

When the movie ends, the two people share some strange ritual where they put away the delicious smelling dishes Daisy wanted to lick and then they put their arms around each other. Jumping up on their legs as they perform this ceremony, Daisy hopes to get some additional loving too.

Minnie takes Daisy outside to pee while Harry grabs his Gucci suit and fancy dress shoes from the closet before Minnie prepares to leave for the interview. Meeting back in the foyer as Minnie sends Daisy to her bed, the couple awkwardly stand and look at each other.