Phainon stopped short in the doorway.

{{user}} was on the couch, legs crossed, utterly relaxed—and holding a magazine.

Glossy cover. Phainon’s name in bold. Shirt open. Abs bare. All sharp lines and sinful lighting.

Phainon stared. Then sighed. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

{{user}} didn’t look up. “Hmm?” He turned a page slowly. Deliberately. “Did you know they zoomed in here?” His thumb tapped the crease of Phainon’s waist. “Very educational.”

Phainon walked over, looming. “That spread wasn’t for you.”

{{user}} finally glanced up, eyes amused. “Liar. You came home glowing that day.”

Phainon reached down and took the magazine from his hands, tossing it aside. He leaned in, voice low. “You don’t need paper to look at me, partner.”