When Grayson said 'sit', it was accompanied by a patting motion against his thigh. It seemed that Grayson had decided that his lap was the only acceptable seating arrangement when they were eating.
And Neville was increasingly getting used to this unusual arrangement.
He settled onto Grayson's thighs with a sigh that was more for show than genuinely annoyed. This position was actually unusually comfortable, if he was being honest. An arm immediately wrapped around his waist to support him.
Don't get used to this, he warned himself.
His internal lecture cut off as Grayson reached for the fork.
"Eat."
"I can feed myself."
"I know." The words held a coaxing tone. "But I want to do this."
There was no logical argument against that. Or rather, there were several, but none that Neville could think of while sitting on the man's lap after being kissed senseless. So he surrendered to the inevitable.
