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That particular morning Rhys wakes up late. It’s not a big deal, really, he wakes up late a lot but this particular morning he had had things to do. Places to be. People to see. And a demanding ex-boss of a boyfriend to snuggle with. Said boyfriend is nowhere to be found, their bed left cold on one side.
Now that’s unusual. You wouldn’t say it to his face, but Jack tends to be a lazy bastard and likes sleeping.
Way more than Rhys, anyway.
“Um,” says Rhys to the empty room. He picks up a discarded shirt from the floor and pulls it on, uncaring if it’s his own or Jack’s. Most of their wardrobes had mingled at some point in their relationship anyway, even when Jack prefers completely ridiculous clothes and Rhys has a fantastic sense of style, if you asked him.
If you asked Jack, he’d say that Rhys never looks at himself in the mirror before he goes out. And that’s putting it kindly.
Rhys doesn’t find Jack anywhere in the house. He walks through sunlit rooms and sleepily calls out his name. Finally, the answer comes from the very end of the house and through the glass doors leading to their (ridiculously huge) balcony complete with a glass and aluminum railing.
“Jack, why- oh GOD!”
Rhys nearly trips on his own feet and slams into the balcony-doors as he sees Jack’s morning (or afternoon, but who’s counting at this point) workout. The workout itself is nothing unusual. But Jack doing it in the nude is. It’s not like Rhys isn’t familiar with his boyfriend’s frankly impressive physique- considering his age and his tendency to set gym equipment on fire rather than use it- and very intimately familiar at that, but this- the balcony’s railings cover nothing! Their nearest neighbour is only a few meters away!
“Hiya,” says Jack, cheery as he does another push-up and finally sits up. He’s wearing a grin. And nothing else.
Rhys, because he’s Rhys and more than a little weak in some places- not everything, mind you-, drops his eyes to Jack’s groin. Then back up.
Jack grins. “Didn’t have the heart to wake ya, sleepin’ beauty.”
“Why are you so naked,” Rhys asks, trying to clear his head.
Jack shrugs. “Felt like it. Oh. I think I hear our neighbour, the old lady, wassit, well whatever, waking up. Come on, sweetcheeks.”
“Sweet-what- “ Rhys manages before he’s being dragged towards the railing, Jack still terrifyingly naked and Rhys’ eyes roaming all over.
He can’t help it. Jack’s, well. Jack’s hung.
Rhys’ body grows warm all over and he tugs his hand out of Jack’s grip.
“Heyyyy, neighbour!” Jack shouts from the railing, leaning against it until Rhys is sure that the glass is going to have an imprint of Jack’s goddamn dick.
Someone squeaks and Rhys isn’t convinced it’s not him.
“Why are you terrorizing our neighbours,” he hisses and marches to Jack, grabbing a bicep but ends up just being wolf-whistled by the very same old lady neighbour whose name neither of them can quite remember.
Jack guffaws.
“Oh good fucking god,” Rhys says. “Haha, very nice, Jack.” He still waves to the old lady. She waves back and gives him thumbs up.
“I hope you have a lot of stamina, kiddo!” She shouts.