There were questions one asked at crossroads in life.
'What is my purpose?'
'What legacy will I leave behind?'
'Is there life after Trevor's libido?'
Lucas stared blankly at the miniature fortress being erected on the plush carpet, a small red brick pinched between his fingers, the other hand bracing the small of his back as he shifted with a wince. His knees ached. His spine cracked ominously every time he leaned too far forward. His hips felt… untrustworthy.
He was twenty-seven.
Trevor was thirty-four.
And somehow, his husband still had the stamina of a genetically enhanced bull with a superiority complex and a gym membership.
Lucas rubbed his lower back and tried not to dwell on the fact that he hadn't walked straight in four days. Or that the only reason he was sitting now was because Sebastian had dragged him bodily to the floor with the quiet authority of a five-year-old who ruled the palace they called home like a small, smiling tyrant.
"Daddy, this one doesn't fit."
