"Oh my," a woman's voice said. "Aren't you yummy looking?"

The appreciation and hunger in the tone, as well as the smell of fresh baked goods, made Reegan's stomach growl loudly. He didn't want to count the hours since his last meal. The promise of food made him crack an eye open, then immediately shut it against the blinding light.

"Are you okay, young man?"

She had to mean him, but more than a decade had passed since someone had called him young. And what was she doing in his apartment?

"Dim lights eighty percent," he pleaded with a whimper.

"That's the sun, my dear. I don't have the power to turn it down."

Memories from the past day rushed in. Reegan shot straight up in bed, eyes blinking past the bright light to focus on the tiny elderly woman sitting a few feet away at the desk.

Not his apartment. Saul's office, over a hundred years in the past. He pulled in a deep breath, then another. "I'm still alive."

"Indeed you are, handsome. Rough night?" The woman pushed a white box across the desk, string still hanging from the sides. "Try one of these. Guarantee they'll take care of that hangover."

"I don't have a hangover."

"Of course you don't. Stay away from the nut roll. It's a bit doughy."

She walked around the desk to plunk the bakery box into his lap, which was thankfully still sheet-covered, then settled back into her seat. Thick bifocals hung from a jeweled cord around her neck, and she hummed as she sliced open mail with a letter opener.

Reegan blinked at the doughnut box, distracted by the warmth he felt leaking through the bottom. Curious, he peeked beneath the lid. "They're covered in sugar."

"Indeed they are."

"Real sugar, like from sugar cane?"

She looked up from the mail, offering a patient smile. "What other kind is there?"

Synthetic, of course. "Unbelievable," he murmured, digging into the box. The mosaic virus had made mass-produced cane unviable since 2089. Some was still grown and harvested in sealed greenhouses. Not enough to satisfy demand or make it an affordable substance for Reegan.

Sweet Jesus, one of the perfect puffy rings was covered in the stuff. He shoved it in mouth, groaning in bliss when it crunched between his teeth. The last time he'd tasted real sugar had been...he couldn't remember when.

"Would you like your shirt, dear?"

Reegan froze, mouth full of sweet pastry, then swallowed past a dry throat. Saul had lent him a T-shirt last night, but they'd gotten distracted before he'd had a chance to put it on. He had no idea where the garment had ended up.

In fact, the only thing between him and Grandma at the moment was a thin sheet and a box of donuts. He stopped himself, barely, from dropping his eyes to look for bruises or bite marks. Saul hadn't been gentle. "Yes?"

Her mouth spread into a wide smile. "You don't sound sure."

He scowled at her grin. "Yes, I'd like my shirt." The one on the floor by her desk would be nice. It looked like the one Saul had given him.

The woman homed in on it like a bloodhound and snatched it off the floor. "This one? It's Saul's favorite, by the way."

Okay, now she was playing him. "That works. Thanks."

She balled it up and lobbed it in a graceful arc. It landed in his lap, and the woman breezed by his cot to rap lightly on the inner office door. "Saul? Your friend is awake."

Reegan shoved the doughnut into his mouth and shouldered into the shirt. Just in time. The door swung open to reveal his host, hair squashed flat on one side and sticking straight out on the other. He wore the same pair of jeans he'd had on last night when he disappeared behind the door. Wide, confused eyes grew sharper by the second. "He's not a friend. He's a..."

The lady leaned forward. "A...?"

This should be interesting. Reegan dropped back onto his elbows and munched on his doughnut.

The woman lowered her face so her glasses slid down her nose. Saul had several inches on her, but he stuttered like a schoolboy until the woman sniffed and turned away. "Never mind. I don't need to know."

Reegan snorted sugar.

"Cammie." Saul's voice sounded thin and lost. "This is Reegan. And yes, he's a friend."

The admission, though no doubt said to appease Cammie, made Reegan's insides do a flip. In more sane circumstances, Saul was the type of man Reegan would have happily called friend.

"I thought I told you to take the day off." Saul ventured into the room, scratching at his stomach. Reegan followed the motion of his fingers while he reached for another doughnut.

Cammie wielded the letter opener like a pro, slicing through one envelope after another as if both Saul and Reegan were invisible, and after a tired roll of his eyes, Saul scooped Reegan's pants off the floor and tossed them over. "Feel like a shower?"

It would be nice. Or he could walk around smelling like sex all day. That didn't sound half bad, though he wouldn't be able to concentrate for shit. "Sure." Rather than don the pants, he scooted to the edge of the bed and wrapped the sheet around his waist. He crossed the room with as much dignity as possible, leaving the box of heaven behind, and Saul swung the office door closed, pointing Reegan toward the bathroom.

"Take your time."

It didn't sound like a suggestion. Cammie was doing her best to look innocent, but Reegan suspected that as soon as he made himself scarce, she was going to get a tongue-lashing. He snagged a belt loop on Saul's pants before he could escape. "Is that your mom or something?"

"Funny. Is there anything you need?"

"How about some company?" His sleep-deprived brain was clinging to the memory of how their bodies felt sliding together, and those heady impressions outweighed any rational arguments. His skin stung in places where Saul's blunt fingernails had caught. A light, rosy rash was sprinkled over his chest, courtesy of Saul's stubbled cheeks. The man liked to nuzzle. He knew if he checked, he'd find more evidence. Finger-shaped bruises across his hips and bite marks along the line of his throat. Remembering how they got there fired him up all over again. "Does your shower hold two?"

"It barely holds one." Saul tempered the rejection with a soft smile, the first Reegan had seen that didn't carry anger or sadness of some sort.

"Damn." Unable to control himself, Reegan set a hand against Saul's chest, caressing the sleep-warm skin. The touch sent shivers down his arm.

"Yeah." Saul's rough voice complemented the flare of lust in his eyes. "Some other time." He took a purposeful step back, and Reegan let him go. Gaze burning, Saul crossed into the outer office. His shadow loomed on the other side of the glass, then turned so Reegan could see he'd crossed his arms over his chest. The woman said something. It came through as little more than indistinguishable murmurs to Reegan's ears, and Saul answered. "Let it go, Cammie."

Grinning, Reegan made for the bathroom, clutching his sheet in one hand and the remnants of his doughnut in the other. The small tan tiles that covered the floor felt like ice against his bare feet. Hissing, he tiptoed to the pedestal sink and stared into the mirror. He needed a shave, but would bet all of Maxie's petty cash that he wouldn't be getting one. The invention of sonics was a decade away, and he'd never used an actual metal blade on his face.

It didn't seem wise to make a try of it this morning either.

Reegan shuddered. As much as he loved the past, and this time period in particular, the savageness of its everyday rituals boggled his mind. He poked around the small sink, finding little more than a toothbrush standing upside down in a used Dixie cup.

Now that was something he needed and felt competent to handle. As long as he could find another one hanging around somewhere. He ducked, peering under the sink. No hidden storage there. The only other fixtures in the bathroom were an evil-looking hook hanging halfway out of the drywall, a white shower curtain, and a small stack of clean towels piled on the back of the commode.

His eyes wandered back to the mirror. Ah, of course. He cleared his throat. "Open."

Water dripped from the showerhead. The mirror didn't open. Reegan scowled at it. Saul hadn't struck him as the type of person to have an etiquette package on his appliances. "Please open." Nothing. Who password-protected their toothpaste? Irritation seeped in, finally ousting the stubborn fog of lust he'd woken in. He turned and yanked the door open.

Saul stood on the other side, head tilted, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Who are you talking to?"

Reegan turned and pointed at the mirror, only to have his brain catch up to his mouth just in time. He let his arm fall to his side. "No one."

He endured Saul leaning around to peer behind him. "Everything okay?"

"Of course. Do you by chance have an extra toothbrush?"

Saul gave a slow nod, bemused gaze locked on Reegan. "I was thinking you might want one. I always keep one or two extras." Reaching out, he touched his index finger to the mirror and pushed. Reegan heard a click, and the mirror popped open, revealing the shelving behind it. Saul plucked a packaged toothbrush from the top shelf and held it out.

A pressure latch. How quaint. Delighted, Reegan shut the cabinet, then carefully used his finger to push against the glass. The cabinet popped open. Grinning, he snatched the toothbrush from Saul. "Very interesting."

Saul's gaze panned between the mirror and Reegan. "If you say so. There's a razor there, if you want one."

Reegan eyed the molded plastic instrument with distrust. "Better not risk it."

Saul swallowed the last of the jelly doughnut he'd been holding, leaving behind a spot of red at the corner of his mouth. His posture had shifted from amused to wary. "Where did you say you were from?"

Reegan wasn't a great liar. The intricacies of spy work gave him a headache, and he couldn't even bluff at poker. In Saul's line of work, he'd pick up on a blatant untruth in a heartbeat. There was only one solution for a situation like this-distraction. Tossing the toothbrush into the sink behind him, Reegan dropped his sheet and pushed into Saul's space. Deliberately, he licked at the spot of stray jam clinging to his lips, then nipped the shell of his ear.

With a gasp, Saul clamped his hands on Reegan's bare hips, a groan vibrating in his throat. "Didn't get enough last night?"

Reegan took the question for rhetorical, especially when Saul manhandled him into the small space and shouldered the door closed. With a cheeky grin, Reegan kicked the sheet into a cushy pile and sank to his knees, scratching his fingers over Saul's stomach and thighs. "Think I owe you a little something."

"You don't owe me anything."

Saul had to realize what his noble attitude did to Reegan. There just weren't that many unselfish people in the world, in any time period. "It's not a matter of owing. It's a matter of wanting." He tickled the skin around Saul's navel. "Now get 'em off."

Saul may have been honorable, but he didn't hesitate once he'd made a decision. He had his pants unzipped and pushed over his hips in short order. No underwear this morning, a fashion decision Reegan had never understood, but one he was coming to appreciate.

He leaned in, running his cheek along the heated shaft. "Good morning."

"It is." Saul's smile still held a hint of amusement, though his gaze had grown soft. Affectionate. Reegan's heart stood up and took notice of that. His brain sent out a cursory warning, but it broke apart under Saul's wandering hands. They drifted over Reegan's shoulders and pushed into his hair. "Do I need to say please?"

Reegan might have asked that of some men. In this case, there was no need to beg. "No. Just try to stay on your feet."

"Is that a challenge?"

It was now. Reegan's answer was a long, slow lick up the length of Saul's erection. There might not be time to stretch this into an hour-long activity, but he wasn't going to rush either. Not when Saul trembled from trying to keep himself quiet. Drawing out those sounds of pleasure would be a special challenge.

Steady pressure and a varied rhythm did the trick. After a few short minutes of listening to Saul's whispered moans and curses, Reegan reassessed his own ability to wait through a slow, steady build. His whole body ached, heavy with anticipation.

Saul melted against the wall, thrusting his hips forward in wanton desire. He'd stopped playing the unaffected recipient. Mouth open, he panted in time with Reegan's ministrations, grunting when his cock sank deep into Reegan's throat.

It shouldn't have been this intoxicating. They were still just learning each other, testing limits. Yet every taste, every brush of Reegan's tongue and teeth against Saul's body felt right. Familiar. As though they were lovers connected by years of exploration and intimacy, not virtual strangers.

Saul tugged on Reegan's hair with a warning whine, and he pulled back obediently. "You there already?"

"Yeah. Do you want-?" Saul gave a convulsive swallow, slipping his hands under Reegan's arms and pulling him to his feet. "This." Tilting his hips at an even more obscene angle, he took them in hand, wrapping both shafts in a tight fist.

The sensation would've driven Reegan back to his knees, but Saul's other hand snuck around his back and yanked him close. Pressed together, breath mingling, they watched their straining cocks slide through Saul's fingers. The sight alone would have brought Reegan over, but the added spark of friction, the drag of calloused skin over his aching shaft, doubled the intensity of his release.

He came first, coating Saul's fingers, and with a clipped shout, Saul followed, shooting onto his stomach in strong pulses. He shuddered through the orgasm, strangling his cries behind his clenched teeth. As his grip loosened, Reegan moved in for a kiss, prying those teeth open with his tongue so that he could feel the last of Saul's moans vibrate through him.

Neither rushed to separate. Reegan lay contented kisses along Saul's shoulder, enjoying how Saul's splayed fingers rubbed soothing circles on his back. When Saul did pull away, it was with obvious reluctance. He swiped a hand towel over his abs and hauled his jeans back over his hips. "I'll let you get that shower."

Since clinginess was never attractive, Reegan let him go. "Okay."

"Call if you need anything." With another of those shy smiles, Saul slipped out the door, and several seconds passed before Reegan conquered his own smile and turned to the matter at hand. Knees still unsteady, he peeked behind the shower curtain, hoping for a built-in seat. No luck. Saul hadn't been lying. The stall was coffin-sized, and that might have been a generous assessment.

The one chrome knob, dull with soap film, looked daunting. Reegan double-checked but didn't see voice controls anywhere. Unsurprising, considering the year and Saul's economic situation. He tried giving a command under his breath anyway. "Set temp one hundred degrees."

Nothing. Grimacing, he reached for the knob and lifted it up on a pure guess. Water shot out of the showerhead, and Reegan pumped a fist in the air. Some experimenting brought the stream from frigid to bearably scalding, and with a contented sigh, Reegan stepped under the spray. Even those who had the luxury of water showers didn't enjoy pressure like this. Too wasteful. But in 2020, the great shortages had yet to occur. He could stand here for hours, or at least while the hot water lasted, and never feel a niggle of guilt.

Although the experience was a bit too much like a condemned man's last meal.

The bar soap was familiar, and one bottle was helpfully marked shampoo. Reegan scrubbed away the dirt, sleep and sex, then turned the tap closed. Dripping, he grabbed the towel off the hook and stepped out of the enclosure onto the tile.

He might as well have stepped onto a sheet of ice. His heel slid out from under him, and arms flailing, he dropped backward, smacking his head against the wall before sliding to the floor of the enclosure with a moan. His vision dimmed, then brightened. A vicious throbbing began in his head that echoed in both his ankle and elbow. Blood filled his mouth, and he leaned sideways to spit onto the shower floor. Keeping his doughnuts down became an epic battle. The way his stomach was rolling, the odds weren't looking good.

The door slammed open, and Reegan fixed a bleary gaze on the two figures that appeared. They were both Saul, sporting matching frowns, and Reegan couldn't decide which to focus on. "What the fuck happened?" Both Sauls leaned down to grip his arms.

"Slipped?" Reegan spit more blood into the drain. "Sorry."

The Sauls rolled their eyes, then leaned close enough to merge into a single figure that hefted Reegan under the arms. "Can you stand?"

"If you help. Think so." In the end, though, Saul did it all, hauling Reegan to his feet and setting him on the closed lid of the toilet. Reegan leaned over the sink and buried his aching head in his arms. "Ow."

"Seriously, are you okay?" From the sound of Saul's voice, he'd sunk to a crouch next to Reegan. "How bad is it?"

"I'll be fine." His vision was already clearing, and the pain in his elbow had subsided to a dull throb. He winced when a washcloth was pressed to his cheek.

"Easy. You reopened the cut on your cheek."

"Of course I did." Death by clumsiness. He'd be a legend in time-travel circles. A comic legend. The only thing more embarrassing would be to choke to death on a chicken bone or something. He raised his head to blink at Saul. "Do you know the Heimlich?"

"I do." Saul blotted the cut on Reegan's cheek. "Why?"

"Just making sure. It'd be nice to live through the day." And the way things were going, that wasn't looking likely. Those waves in the timeline had become tsunamis.

"Do you need to lie down?"

The honest catch of concern in Saul's voice helped alleviate the fear. The man cared. It meant more to Reegan than he'd thought it would. A shudder ran through him, not unpleasant in its intensity. Immediately, Saul draped a towel across his shoulders.

Reegan clutched it. "No. I'm fine. Just give me a minute, and I'll get out of your way."

"You're not in my way." The washcloth dabbed at his cheek gently. "Let me help you back to bed. You can rest while I get ready. I won't be long." He stood and slid a hand around Reegan's waist to pull him to his feet. "Don't worry about Cammie. I sent her home. Why she insists on coming in on Saturdays, I'll never understand."

"Cammie's your...?"

"I'm not sure the force that is Cammie can be put into words." Saul helped a limping Reegan through the office and back to the cot, patting away the worst of the water before settling him on the mattress. "She does a little bit of everything. Including mother me."