Copyright 2012 Tricia Owens
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When Maxmillian woke, he was not alone.
The last time he had shared a bed with someone that someone had been Jonathan. Brief panic bolted through him, quickly suppressed. He would not have given in to a moment's lust and bad judgment and bedded Jonathan again. It was inconceivable. He chastised himself for believing it of himself even for a moment. He turned his head on the pillow and contemplated with satisfaction the head full of wavy golden blond hair lying beside him.
Ethan. Much better.
A sweet cocktail of desire and longing filtered through Max's body as he gazed at the man in his bed. The bed sheet had pooled at the small of Ethan's back, allowing Max to look his fill of the other man's strong shoulders and sleek back. The view was simply gorgeous.
He rose up onto an elbow and lightly combed his fingers through the too-long golden hair of his new lover. Ethan was less than a handful of years younger than he but experience made the gulf seem wider. The blond exuded a youthfulness that appealed strongly to Max. After years of working in a world dominated by older professional men, Ethan's presence reminded Max of being in University -- the excitement of the future, the sensual awareness of his classmates, and the energy of possibility. Max had learned maturity quickly, even as a child. Ethan clearly had not, and while Max had already glimpsed instances when such behavior would be a detriment, he admitted to himself he rather enjoyed the other man's joie de vivre.