When Ian stood, Martin followed suit, stretching his half-numb legs and pulling Ian into a one-armed hug. Contrary to what the man believed he did truly like him. It was a deeper meaning, beyond lust or an addiction, though addiction was a good term for it. He cared whether Ian felt good or bad, was happy or sad, or had good or bad dreams.

"Sure, Ian---I'll head to the kitchen and find something for breakfast..." He looked at their leftover mess. "Egh... We can leave that 'till later... Maybe tonight." Patting Ian's shoulder, he turned to go through the dining room and into the kitchen.