Removing his other sock, with a bit of a wobble because his attention was elsewhere, Charlie edged towards the bedside then stooped and put both hands on it. He looked Deacon in the eyes for a moment then let hi gaze drift along his body with a long contented sigh.
"I am," he murmured, "the luckiest little bastard in the world." And he crawled onto the bed and nuzzled Deacon's hip. Deacon smelled fantastic.